


Bean sídhe

by KalendraAshtar



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Complete, F/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:44:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6275704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KalendraAshtar/pseuds/KalendraAshtar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Claire is the Bean sídhe, a legend in the Scottish Highlands. Loved by some and feared by many, she leads a mysterious life. But when her path crosses Jamie's, both their lives and the clans are forever changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bean sídhe

Jamie inhaled the air, fresh like a crushed mint leave under the shade of the threes. He could smell the deer near him, his deep tang of fur and green things, and closed his eyes listening for the subtle sounds of movement. _There_ , near the burn. He arranged the bow that he was carrying, trying to move fast and light, his feet barely touching the ground.

He came around a bush and saw the deer drinking water, his pinkish tongue flickering, eyes darting sensing danger. He set an arrow in his bow and aimed, breathing deeply and then holding his breath until the moment the arrow would leave his hands. He was a hunter and thought had little place in those moments, when body and mind fused in the most primal instincts.

But suddenly the direction of the wind changed and the deer caught his scent and jumped, galloping across the water and through the nearby threes.

“ _Ifrinn_!” He cursed, and before long he was running after the deer, his blood pulsing through him, the thrill of the hunt clouding everything else. He leapt across a fallen log and kept the animal within his sight, breath short in his lungs.

Now it was a challenge, a question of honour. He refused to accept defeat and kept running, his kilt flowing around him, ignoring the throbbing pain in his left flank.

And so, when the deer jumped through the thick bushes into the light, he followed. And then he felt the void bellow his feet.

He was falling through the air like a shooting star, everything happening so fast but at the same time he had time to think “ _I’m falling. This is it_.” He could see the glow of rocks in the bottom of the cliff and closed his eyes, waiting for the impact. But what came was a blow to his right shoulder that made him see red through his closed eyelids, a pain so brutal he felt vomit coming up his gullet.

He hit something in the edge of the cliff, probably an old branch, which slowed his fall and now he was sliding the slope, dirt filling his mouth and eyes.

Eventually he stopped falling, excruciatingly painful electric jolts traveling his chest like thunder trapped in a bottle. He couldn’t feel his legs and felt little of his arms and what he felt hurt like the fires of hell.

“ _It’s mortal. I’m mortally wounded._ ” He thought, almost dreamily.

Jamie could see the sky above him, two eagles flying in circles near the sun. He watched them fly like sky dancers until darkness took him away, and he welcomed its embrace.

****

“Wake up, damn you!”

He moaned and opened his eyes, which were much slower than usual gaining focus. The first thing he thought was that the sky was falling and a dark cloud was engulfing him.

“Well, hello there. Bloody finally.” The cloud said. But then his brain recovered somewhat and he saw dark hair and golden eyes staring at him. Unfortunately what made his brain work also allowed him to feel pain and so it came, searing every fibre of his body.

“Ouch!” Jamie growled when hands touched his shoulder.

“I think that’s entirely appropriate.” The lass said, with a sympathetic tone. “You’re quite hurt, my lad.”

“Who are ye?” He asked, speech a little slurred. His mouth tasted of blood and dirt.

The young woman, for now he could see it was a woman alright, ignored his question, ripping the collar of his hunting shirt to look at his shoulder. He felt very much exposed and ashamed.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” She exclaimed loudly, making him jump. “This is bad.” The strange lass then proceeded to tear apart his sleeve and curled the fabric in a bundle to apply pressure to his shoulder. Her face was fierce and Jamie dreamily realized her skin glowed like an opal in the light of sundown.

“I’ll have to move you. There’s a storm coming and you need tending, more than what I can do out here.” She bit her lip, thinking. “You’re very big, aren’t you? Oh well, let me think…”

Well he wasn’t stopping her. She could slit his throat right there and little could he do to prevent it. He could barely keep from drowning in darkness again. She was now apparently evaluating his left leg, her fingers probing just above his ankle. Jamie could see angry, black, clouds coming above her shoulder and the air smelled of rain. His nose caught other scent, the smell of lemon and herbs, that was more intense whenever she moved her hair…And the light, yes, the light played on her hair and drew a thousand colours…and her lips were the colour of a rare rose that used to grow near his childhood home…

Suddenly she moved his leg in a rapid movement and there was a flash of pain so brutal that he drifted to darkness again, time only to think “ _Damn you, deer.”_

****

When he came around for the second time he was jolting in a cart behind a brown horse, his bones echoing the movement with bursts of pain. Jamie could see the back of the rider and definitely was the strange woman with the wild brown hair. It was beginning to rain, still somewhat slow, drops cold and uninvited helping him regain some strength. He knew Scotland’s weather well and within minutes the spatters would become a full-fledged storm. Wherever they were going, better be soon.

They came to a halt moments after. She was next to him almost instantly, putting two fingers on his neck and leaning to watch his face.

“I’ll take you inside now. I’m sorry, but it’ll probably hurt a little.” The lass waited for his nod and then dragged the cart bodily to the threshold of a small cottage. Even through the mist that filled his head, he could see a hearth with embers glowing, a bed, a simple table covered with herbs and bottles, two chairs, a small cupboard who looked a little crooked, a battered cabinet and above it a small chest, which appeared more robust than any other item within sight.

“Do you think you can help me getting you to bed?” She asked, her tone not giving much room for a negative answer. After some pushes and pulls he laid in her bed, trembling from the effort and drenched in sweat.

“Here, drink some water, you’re badly dehydrated.” She commanded, taking a pewter cup from the table. He glared at her, puzzled with her meaning, but he was thirsty alright and with her help drank little sips that helped clear his mouth.

“Now lay still while I get the fire started, I’ll need to boil some water to tend your wounds.”

Jamie, feeling more alert, tried to raise his head to evaluate the severity of his injuries, but as he did so dizziness took over, leaving him feeling sick and helpless. He tried to focus on the shape of the woman as she moved near the hearth, noticing the elegance of her profile and the graceful shape of her neck. She was wearing a simple grey gown and put on a large apron before starting to select herbs and throwing them in the boiling water. The confidence of her attitude, as well as the homely feel of heat and shelter, made him drowsy again.

Eventually she appeared near him again, carrying a steaming bucket and more linen bandages than he could count.

“I have to clean up your wounds before I could do anything else. It’ll hurt a lot, so take a long sip of this.” She extended a flask and he carefully tasted it. It was whiskey, good and strong, and he was thankful for the heated strength that was infused in his belly.

“Thank ye, missus.” He thanked her, trying to sound more polite than he felt.

“I’ll have to take off your shirt.” She said slowly and he noticed she avoided his gaze for a moment. “The kilt can stay for now. Your leg is broken, though. I already set it when I found you but I’ll have to splint it so it heals properly.”

He nodded, feeling some of the heat of the whiskey going to his face, and helped her ease off the damaged and stained shirt. The skin of his chest prickled in the air of the cottage.

“Hold still, now.” And then she started what seemed the longest minutes of his life. He was covered with scrapes and bruises that burned as flaming coals when she cleaned them. Just when he thought he couldn’t bear it any longer without crying out, she stopped.

“I’m sorry.” She said gently. “I’ll let you rest for a moment before starting to work on your shoulder.”

He vaguely wondered what she meant by that, but nodded again. He tried to take deep and slow breaths that would calm some of the pain. She was looking straight at him, a pensive look upon her face. 

“What happened to you?” She asked, suddenly.

“I was hunting, chasing a deer.” His memory was a little foggy but that was clear enough. “I fell from a cliff.”

“It must have been quite the creature to inspire such an act!” She laughed softly. He answered with a humourless grin.

She gave him a few more moments of respite and then took the bandage off his shoulder. Jamie could feel a hot liquid running, evidently his blood, and she was applying pressure before he had time to say anything.

“I’ll have to stitch you up a little, do you want something to bite on?” Her face was determined, her eyes soft but serious.

“I can take it, lass.”

“Suit yourself then.” She went to the table and retrieved some objects that looked a lot like something you’d see in a dungeon for torture. She grabbed a ribbon from the pocket of her apron and neatly took up her hair in a knot, allowing him to see her delicate earlobes. Then she took some water from the cauldron and put it in a basin where she washed her hands like she was trying to scrub off sticky honey from her fingernails.

She came to the bed again, palms turned up to the air, like a priestess begging for inspiration from the ancient gods, her face composed and her eyes fierce.

Jamie would recall the next moments with vividness for many years. She poured something from a bottle that smelled strongly of alcohol on his shoulder, making him grit his teeth. The woman then took his arm and with a series of decisive movements placed the joint in the right place, making him cough with the bile that pilled in his throat. Then she took a long needle and an unidentifiable (at least to him) thread and began to close his flesh, with the calmness and easiness of a reputed seamstress.

Once in a while he could hear her say like in a prayer _“I’m here, I have you, I’m here…”_. He hold on to that, her voice keeping him from drowning in pain and oblivion, a guiding light that he could use to find his way.

By the end of the affair Jamie was shaking baldy, speechless, the ghost of a scream trapped in his throat. The splinting of the leg was easier but Jamie’s emotions were already so raw that he couldn’t help the tears that formed in his eyes.

After she cleaned everything away, allowing him precious time to dry his tears in the bed linen, she came back and sat next to him on the bed. Her face was soft now and he was surprised but strangely pleased to feel a light stroke of her hand across his hair, moist with perspiration.

They stayed silent for a while, looking at each other, unfamiliar still but not strangers anymore.

“You’re her, aren’t ye?” He said at last, licking his chapped lips. “The Durisdeer healer. The _Bean sídhe_.”

“Am I?” She asked cautiously, eyeing him with those hawk eyes. “And if I was, would it matter to you?”

“No.” He said almost in a murmur, but clearly she was not convinced for her brow wrinkled in his direction. “You’re helping me when ye had no obligation and I’ll be forever in your debt.”

“Careful now, sir. Forever is a long time.” She smiled, but there was seriousness in her eyes. “About your question…Well…” She said slowly, picking up a small pot and starting to apply some fresh ointment on the cuts of his hands. Her own hands were soft and warm, agile in their work. “Some people do call me that.”

The silence fell between them again, and although it wasn’t uncomfortable Jamie craved to know more about the mysterious woman. _“Well,”_ He thought _“At least I owe her my name.”_

“I’m Jamie. James Fraser.” He could have stopped there, but something compelled him to share more of himself with her. “The last of my clan.”

“Claire.” She smiled but there was also sadness there, and he was surprised to realize that knowledge made _his_ heart ache a little. “The first of mine.”


	2. Tormented

**Chapter 2 - Tormented**

_“I’m Jamie. James Fraser.” He could have stopped there, but something compelled him to share more of himself with her. “The last of my clan.”_

_“Claire.” She smiled but there was also sadness there, and he was surprised to realize that knowledge made his heart ache a little. “The first of mine.”_

Before Jamie could ask any of the multiple questions that formed in his mind after their introductions, thunder roared in the skies like cannon fire making them both jump. At the same time he heard a cry outside, loud and desperate like a child wailing.

“There’s someone outside!” He said to Claire, trying to get up from the bed.

“Yes, there is.” She put a hand on his chest stilling him and gave him a lopsided smile. “I expect it’s my goat, Bathsheba, scared out of her mind. Be still, I’ll go put her inside before she deafen us both.”

Before he could answer she took a green cloak from a nail near the bed and opened the door, water droplets splattering angrily on the floor.

Jamie savoured the loneliness for a few moments, trying to steady himself. So he was in this Englishwoman’s house, _Claire_ , not only a lovely woman but also the legendary _Bean sídhe_. He had heard stories about her across the Highlands – most people said she was a gifted healer, others called her a witch. Some folk said she was a succubus living on the hill, preying on unwatchful men; others thought indecent for a young woman to live alone with no man to mind her. And then there was _those_ odd stories, about power – quiet whispers behind closed doors ensuring she was indeed magic, an ancient being, and that a man she accepted to lie with her would have the power to unite the clans, invincible in battle.

Was she dangerous? He couldn’t really believe it. He felt safe near her and when he looked into her eyes he saw some mischief, but mostly goodness and a kind heart. Why was she so different from everyone else?

He couldn’t stay here with her. It wasn’t appropriate and he could disgrace her reputation even further. He had to get back, to go home, they were expecting him…

Jamie sat carefully on the edge of the bed and tried to stand up, but both his legs gave way and he found himself panting on the floor, his broken leg throbbing in warning. Fearing Claire’s reaction if she found him like this, he clumsily crawled to bed again like an embarrassed caterpillar. He could hear the rain pounding on the roof and it was totally dark outside for all he could tell. Inside there was the soft glow of the hearth and of the candles Claire lit at some point during her work.

After some moments Claire came through the door, soaked like she’d been swimming in the lake fully clothed.

“Damn it! You better make up for this with some excellent milk in the morning, Bat!” She puffed and blew a curl that was sticking on her nose, her ribbon lost in the storm. Claire looked at Jamie and, seeing him awake, smiled at him. She was shaking visibly and came to stand by the fire, trying to capture some heat from the hearth.

“You should take off those clothes, missus, before ye give yourself the ague.” Jamie said on a whim, realizing just a moment too late what he’d _really_ said. He blushed like a ripe tomato.

Claire gave him a long, appraising, look. What she saw there clearly was satisfactory for after a moment’s pause she started undressing herself with method, a little smile on her lips that made her eyes glow dangerously in the candlelight. She took off her dress and her stays, leaving her just covered by her shift, that was somewhat wet and adherent to the curves of her body.

Jamie respectfully looked away as she started shedding her clothes, but couldn’t resist the impulse to glimpse under his lashes every so often. _A Dhia_ , he could see the shape of her breasts through the fabric, her wild hair caressing the soft skin of her neck, the round form of her thighs like flat land that extends to a mountain just as the curve of… _No._ He forcefully closed his eyes completely.

_“Control yourself before disgrace comes upon ye, man_.” He thought, feeling his cheeks flaming and sudden discomfort growing bellow his waist. With his eyes still firmly closed he turned away and faced the wall as much as his injured arm allowed.

“Do you want something to eat?” He heard her asking. Politeness made him open his eyes and he saw that she was more modest now, a big woollen shawl draped around her. “You must keep your strength.”

“Aye.” He watched as she sliced a big round cheese and some bread that she put on a plate, as well as some berries and an apple. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’m giving ye, missus.”

“Claire.” She interrupted, her back turned to him. “Please, do call me Claire.”

“Alright then…Claire.” He said, tasting the sound of her name in his mouth like a fine wine. Once the preparations were completed, she gave him the plate and sat on a chair near the bed, sipping what he identified by smell as strong tea.

“What did you mean when you said you’re the last of your clan?” She asked like their previous conversation had just happened.

“Well…” He slowly chewed a piece of crusty bread, noticing that his jaw also hurt. “I have no kinsman left on this earth, Frasers were wiped out during the clan wars five years past.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And she did look like it, her eyes soft and worried. “Do you live alone, then?”

“Nay.” He experimentally tried to bite the apple. “I have…other people. Kinsmen of my mother.” He finished, abandoning the apple after his jaw gave a suspicious snap.

“I see…” She said. “They probably we’ll be worried about you. You’ll have to stay here for a while, tough. Even if you could walk, which you obviously can’t, you’re at risk for an infection.”

“An…what?” He questioned, furrowing his brows. “Is that serious?”

“Oh, it’s serious alright. Fever, swelling and general mortal danger, you know.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “There’s a special tea brewing though, and I’ll give it to you in a moment.” Seeing the look of apprehension in his face, she added “I’m here to take care of you. You’ll be fine.”

Somehow her words took some weight off his heart. Looking around to distract himself from the looming hypothesis of death and unpleasantness, he noticed for the first time that he was occupying the only bed in sight.

“Missus…Claire. I canna stay here and steal your bed from ye.”

“Oh, think nothing of it. You’re not the first stranger that occupies my bed.” She noticed the surprised look on his face and corrected herself, blushing a little. “Wounded. Wounded strangers.” She looked even more lovely all blushed.

They stayed in silence for a little while, Jamie slowly sipping the tea Claire gave him, which tasted like anise and something spicy.

“Do you get along with your kinsmen, then?” She asked him some time later, getting up to check his bandages.

“It is complicated.” He said and she nodded, accepting he was not willing to talk about it, but he felt he already owed her so much and he wanted to talk to her, above all he wished to keep hearing her voice. “They took me in when I had no one left. They protected me when I was threatened…they still do.” He added. “There are still many who would wish death upon the last Fraser, Claire.” He said slowly and looked up to see her eyes locked on him. “But they’re not mine. And I’m not theirs. When I’m there I have to hide some parts of who I am and that….” He shook his head, suddenly lost for words.

“ _I hate and love. And why, perhaps you’ll ask…”_ He started again in a low voice.

“ _I don’t know: but I feel, and I’m tormented.”_ She finished in a whisper and he glared at her, surprised. “What?” She asked with a little smile. “Surprised that I know Catullus?”

“Aye.” He answered honestly. “I dinna ken many women who know their letters, much less who read Latin poetry.”

“Well…” She took a comb from the table and laboriously tried to tame her hair. “I’m not like most women.”

“Yes…” He said slowly. “I believe ye’re not.” She looked surprised but pleased.

“You really should sleep.” Claire pointed the comb to him. “You’ll heal in your sleep. I’ll be here.” She added softly.

****

Jamie slept restless, his dreams filled with the sensation of falling fast through emptiness, the pit of his stomach jumping every time he crashed. In the midst of his disorganized mind it was the mysterious figure of the _Bean-sídhe_ , her engaging amber eyes that promised something he didn’t even know he wanted before. At some point in his dreams he held her and she became fire and he was only glad to burn with her.

He woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. Claire was there, by his side on the chair, as she had promised. She was asleep, her mouth delicately open, like she was ready to be kissed from her slumber. Her shawl had slipped a little and he could see the promise of her flesh, white and smooth below her neck.

The pain in his shoulder was worsening and he felt sick. Jamie could hear the storm outside and the earth was as restless as him, the wind running through everything, leaving chaos in its wake. At distance he could hear Bathsheba’s complaints. He tried to move without making any noise but the bed frame complained under his weight and Claire was instantly awake, like a soldier hearing the drums that called for war.

“What is it, Jamie?” She asked, leaning over to look at his face. It was the first time she called him by his name, he realized, and almost forgot all his aches.

“My shoulder is troubling me.” He explained, mortified to be showing his weakness again.

“Let me see it.” Claire went to the table and brought a candle closer, beginning to untie his bandages. She looked at the wound with an appraising look like a farmer inspecting dubious livestock. “I’ll have to clean it again, I’m afraid. I’ll put something in to numb the pain a little.”

“Why did ye say ye’re the first of your clan?” He asked after a while, trying to distract himself from the pain while Claire applied her ministrations.

“Well…” She started to apply a paste in the wound which smelt of mint and whiskey. “Like you I have no people, Jamie. I know what is like to be alone, a stranger among strangers.” There was sadness again in her voice.

“But a lady as yourself…” He began, trying to sound reasonable. “Certainly ye have many suitors.” She laughed but he thought she was angry now.

“Yes, there are plenty of man willing to change me and even more who would wish my gifts upon them.” She covered his wound again. “But they’re not theirs to claim.”

“And how do you know…they’re nay right?” He asked, interested.

“I just know.” She answered simply. “And I’ll also know when someone is right.” Her voice was softer now. “You were right, James Fraser. I’m different from other women here. I came alone to this land and stayed to heal others. But there’s no one like me. And sometimes I feel utterly alone. Rootless.” Her eyes were shinning now, trapped tears glowing like gemstones.

“Ye’re not alone now.” His voice was so low he was certain she couldn’t listen. “I’m here.”

But she must have felt or heard the words that poured from his heart, so beyond his control as the blood that drained from his wounds, for her hand went to his and their palms touched. Her hand was cold and the contrast with his heated skin took his breath away. 

“Thank you.” She whispered shyly. He smiled and their eyes met straight on, blue and amber colliding like raging seas that embrace the shore.

Jamie felt tender and numb. He plunged again in sleep, his hand firmly locked with Claire’s. Even in his sleep he could fell her presence, guarding him and anchoring him. He dreamt again - he was hunting the deer, blood singing in his veins, air coming quickly to his tired lungs. And yet _she_ was there too, pulsing through him with every breath and every beat of his heart.

In the darkest hours of night that precede dawn, fever began consuming him.


	3. Burn

**Chapter 3 - Burn**

_In the darkest hours of night that precede dawn, fever began consuming him._

His head burned and he felt as if his eyes were about to melt in their sockets. Jamie tried to open them but found himself trapped in a state between sleep and wakefulness, unable to command his body to come to the surface. He was breathing fast and laboriously, air seeming thicker than usual, and for the first time he realized how much effort one really puts on a simple act like breathing.

Jamie could see bright shapes like flames, searing the inside of his head. He was so cold his body was shaking with it, and he wished only for stillness, even death certainly was better than that hell of fire and ice.

“Jamie!” He heard a voice call him, so far away that it could belong to an entirely different world. “Come back, Jamie!”

Where was she? He felt so tired, searching the rooms in his mind for the person calling him, for he knew he had to go to her. He could see constellations now, trapped in his head, stars that aligned to form a face that he craved for…

“I’ll be damned if I’ll let you die, James Fraser! Don’t you dare!”

Was he moving? He couldn’t be moving, for all his strength was gone, consumed by the raging fire that burned within. Jamie could feel hands that held him and he wished nothing but to surrender to them, to be lost in their caress, for they were the realest thing to him…

“Almost there…stay Jamie, stay with me.”

 _Claire_. Her name was Claire, in the Gaelic she would be called _Sorcha_ , which meant light. In his delirious state Jamie found that oddly appropriate, for he was blinded by her from the moment he saw her.

His heart was beating so fast that his chest hurt, he didn’t think he could stand it much longer, for certainly a heart would tire of careless beating.

Suddenly he felt water washing some of the fire away and the impact of cold raindrops made him gasp. He was propelled to conscience and opened his eyes to see rain and thunder in the grey light of dawn. Jamie felt a tender hand stroking his face and realized Claire was holding him, that she had dragged him bodily outside her house to the rain in a desperate attempt to bring his fever down. He blinked, fascinated by the powerful wind that hit him, like a newborn who first comes to life. Claire’s face was so close to him that he could count the drops that were nestled on her eyelashes. For a moment nothing seemed to exist beyond them and the storm, nature’s fury a witness to the disturbance in his heart.

“Welcome back.” She said, smiling a little, and her hand moved to lightly caress his cheekbone, her hand cold on his heated flesh. “We’ll have to go in now, I can’t hold you much longer.” Jamie could feel that her body was the only thing sustained him, keeping him from falling down.

They managed to get inside and eventually Jamie found himself laying down again, raindrops mixing with the sweat of his struggle against the fire that threatened to end him.

“I have to get out of this shift.” Claire said in a practical tone, but he understood the hidden request and firmly closed his eyes, not daring to peek this time. Moments later he opened his eyes, Claire’s touch upon his chest.

“I was afraid for you.” She said delicately, her hand still on him, just above the place his heart kept beating, drawn to her.

“I was afraid too.” He said with a tired smile. “Claire, I’m sae cold still.”

Claire took every quilt in sight and buried him bellow them, but still he would shake with a cold that made him numb and desperate. She too looked tired and worried, and he tried not to be a coward and to say something that would make her smile, but his teeth rattled in a way that forbade words. He closed his eyes in silent prayer, to God or his guardian angel, any power willing to attend him.

His prayers were answered when he felt a shift on the mattress and opened his eyes to see Claire lying next to him. Her face was fierce and decided, but there was also fear and some suspicion, betrayed by the rigid way of her usually graceful body. They stared into each other’s eyes, close enough he could smell the garden in her hair. Tentatively she moved closer to him, putting her arm around his midsection, their bodies separated by layers of bedclothes. And yet within moments Jamie could feel her heat surrounding him, the breath of her life enlivening his own, like a candle flame made brighter by soft breeze. Eventually he stopped shaking, his body relaxing to her presence, warmth spreading to his toes and face. She shifted like she was about to leave, but he couldn’t contemplate the idea of surviving without her presence to keep him going.

“Will ye stay?” He asked in a whisper, feeling like an orphan child and not caring at all. “Please… stay with me.” Her eyes went darker and she inhaled deeply, as one does when about to dive in deep waters, the real depth unknown.

“Yes.” She whispered back.

Jamie finally let go, dreamless sleep finding him again in her arms, leaving her as guardian of his living flame.

****

Over the next few days they built a shared routine, Jamie finding time and space to heal in her company. He would sit in bed and watch her grind her herbs in a mortar and they would talk, sometimes about silly things that left them gasping with laughter, sometimes about serious and delicate matters. The simplicity of their shared intimacy was something Jamie deeply cherished, a talisman kept close to his heart.

Sometimes people would come searching for help of the Durisdeer healer, and Jamie would pretend to be asleep to give them some privacy, or he would watch fascinated as Claire extracted a tooth or cured ills of the heart with sugary water and a kind word.

One day, almost two weeks after the day they met, Jamie was crossing the small yard coming from a trip to the privy, greeting Bathsheba who was peacefully chewing hay, when the tone of conversation being held inside the cottage made him stop before he opened the door.

“Please, I beg of you my lady! I just canna take it anymore.” Said a woman’s voice, despair bringing an edge to her speech.

“What you ask of me…it’s not right, Beileag!” He recognized Claire’s voice, the soft tone she normally used when addressing her patients replaced by distress. Jamie leaned to the door, trying to understand what was going on inside.

“Wrong, my lady? Wrong?! Shall I suffer in silence the indignities this man brings upon me and do nothing?”

“Maybe you should go away for a time, Beileag, perhaps go to your kinsmen….” Claire said.

“He would follow me anywhere! I’m his property and he enjoys sae much his evil doings…” The woman, Beileag, stopped for a moment. “Ye’re the only one who cares, _Bean sídhe_. Nay one cares if a woman is abused everyday by her husband. It’s just the way of things. If ye willna help me I’m as good as dead, for I’ll not endure it anymore!”

“Don’t say that! Please.” Claire seemed truly distraught. Silence fell between the two women and Jamie could feel the tension in the room, pulsing like heat coming from a bonfire. And then, “I’ll do it.”

Jamie heard movements inside, the usual sounds of Claire moving her bottles and boxes. What was Claire being compelled to do for this woman?

“Give him a spoon full of this liquid everyday, disguise it in his soup or porridge, it’s quite bitter otherwise. Soon enough he won’t be able to…perform. To hurt you. Do you understand, Beileag?”

“Yes, I do.” She said in almost a whisper. “May Michael’s blesses be forever upon ye, my lady.”

“I highly doubt he would share the sentiment, Beileag.” Claire retorted after a deep sigh. “Stay safe and come if you need me.”

Jamie dodged from the doorstep just in time and watched as a lass of maybe sixteen marched for the clearing, tear tracks shining on her face, the bulge of her pregnant belly robbing her steps of female grace.

He entered the house and sat heavily on a chair, silently observing Claire as she cleaned her table and utensils after a day’s work. He wanted to say something, to warn Claire, for as much as he felt sympathy for the troubled lassie, evidently he couldn’t condone with what most people would call witchcraft, and dark witchcraft at that. At last Claire sat on a chair near the window mending socks and Jamie remained on the same spot, unable to compose a sentence, nervously tapping his fingers on the wood.

“I can hear you judging me from over here, Jamie.” She delicately said, without lifting her eyes from her work. “You might as well say what you’re really thinking, before you choke yourself to death with it.”

“How did you know?” He asked, slightly annoyed.

“That you were in the habit of listening to conversations hiding behind the door?” She replied, acidity drooping from her every word. “I didn’t know. But I’ve come to know you quite a bit these last few days. You obviously tap those fingers when you’re worried or thinking.” Claire finally looked straight at him. “Are you not troubled?”

“Yes. Yes, I am!” He replied a little heated after her reproach. “Ye’re messing with dangerous things, Claire! What ye did here was nay right!”

“What men do here is what’s not right!” She replied in a louder voice, her temper straining. “They use us like we’re nothing and never think twice about it! Somebody has to do something for this women, to protect them, and you can bet I’ll defend them until my last breath!”

“I’m afraid that will come soon enough lass, if ye don’t stop meddling with witchcraft!” Jamie felt irrationally angry, but was important that she understood, he had to make her understand...

“Are you calling me a witch?” She asked, her lips almost white and her eyes blazing, as she moved closer to him. “Are you saying I’ll be burned at the stake soon enough, is that it?”

“Maybe.” He responded, feeling something cold and dreadful nestling inside him at the thought of her, Claire, tied to a stake waiting for the fire….fire that would burn her hair, her hands, her smile…forever gone from him.

She laughed, a cackle that made the hairs on his arms stand up. With her eyes blazing and her wild hair sticking out, she truly reminded him of a being from the underworld.

“Are you afraid that you would be burned with me if people knew you’re here?” She demanded, angry lines forming in her mouth. “Are you?”

“I’m _already_ burning!”  He almost screamed. He breathed deeply, his face inches away from hers, but there was no turning back now. “I burn for you, _Bean sídhe_.”

“Wha…What?” Claire asked, her eyes wide open.

“Ye heard me, alright.” Jamie said, turning his back on her. “I have thoughts of nothing but you, Claire. Ye fill my mind during day, ye walk my dreams at night, my heart…” He slowly shook his head. “If witch ye are, ye can stop your spells now. For I am yours.” He turned and faced her.

Claire stood there, her breathing heavy as she had been running. Her eyes were piercing his own, seeking the truth there that no words could mask. Slowly she opened her arms.

“When you look at me, what do you see?” She asked tentatively, and he realized that there was fear there but also hope.

“I see _you_.” He answered slowly, courage and desire giving him strength. “You are beautiful. So beautiful, _mo nighean donn_. And I could never think of looking at you and not wanting you. But when I look at ye…I see what makes ye so rare and cherish it above all things of flesh.”

“Jamie…” Claire’s face was tender and his name on her lips sounded like a promise. “Oh, Jamie…”

And then she was even closer to him and he couldn’t think of a reason not to kiss her anymore. He moved slowly, wishing to give her enough space so she could back away, but she never did. Their lips touched softly like two moths drawn by light. They stayed in that moment, barely touching, barely breathing. And then they both moved and Jamie’s mouth was tasting Claire’s, his lips demanding the answer she hadn’t given him, his hand tangled in the cloud of her hair. They kissed with the ferocity of a slow burn, tongues colliding, a single breath shared.

Eventually Claire stopped and gently pushed him away, leaving her hand on his chest. Her mouth was slightly swollen but there was new resolve in her eyes.

“I have something to tell you, Jamie. I have to tell you the truth."


	4. Betrothed

**Chapter 4 - Betrothed**

_“I have something to tell you, Jamie. I have to tell you the truth.”_

Jamie stared at her, his heart suddenly feeling like a clenched fist. What was she about to tell him? Would she profess herself a witch, confess hideous crimes and rituals practiced with unborn children? That mere thought made him nauseous, mostly because he knew in his heart that nothing she could say would sever the tie in which he was entangled to the bone. He couldn’t leave her now. He couldn’t.

“Almost four years ago, on my twentieth-fourth birthday,” Claire began, her lips slightly quivering. “I was walking the moors on the Scottish Highlands, very close to this exact place. I was engaged to be married with a man named Frank.” She looked helpless. Jamie was pale, his blue eyes wide open, a pulse beating on his temple.

“I came alone to a place called _Craigh na Dun_ , a fairy hill, to look for some herbs. And then the wind rose, but only for me, calling my name and I touched a stone. It was like hearing drums, and knowing they were setting the pace of my heart, changing me in the most elemental things that made me who I was. I was trying to conquer the biggest storm that ever was, protected only by a leaf. And then there was…nothing. Utterly emptiness.” She stopped and licked her lips, finally dropping her hand from Jamie’s chest.

“When I woke up something was so terribly wrong. There’s no way to put it in words, not really. But I can say this - somehow I was disassembled and made whole again, except I felt slightly broken, with sharp edges.” She looked away, avoiding Jamie’s gaze.

“I was born in 1918.” Claire said, almost whispering. “That day I travelled back in time and came here.”

Jamie felt a sense of unreality infiltrate his body and mind. He felt numb and disconnected, incompetent to grasp the meaning of her words.

“I was very sick at first.” Claire continued, for she couldn’t stop now that she had begun. It was like being drained of a poisonous thing, albeit all suffering one experiences in the healing, the shear relief of being purged greatly surpasses everything else. “My mind was very cloudy and I felt tired. So tired. It was like I had in fact lived two hundred years’ worth of days without sleep.”

Claire moved and slowly sat down on the chair, her eyes fixing her hands as she nervously rubbed her fingers. Jamie couldn’t help but notice the beauty of her hands, capable and soft.

“I wandered for a while. I didn’t understand what had happened and couldn’t find anyone. I ended here. An old healer used to live alone in this house, her name was Lilias. She took care of me, gave me a place to stay, to heal. It took me no more than a few hours with her to realize what had happened.” Claire glanced quickly at him, trying to measure his reaction to her story.

“I couldn’t believe it at first. How could anyone, really?” She laughed without humour. “But I also couldn’t deny it.” Jamie sat on the chair in front of her, his legs about to give way.

“I think she somehow knew that I was not from here…from _now_. She was a smart lady, my Lilias. I lived with her for some months and before she died she gave me her house and the care of her people, her patients. She had no one else.”

“Claire.” Jamie said, his voice sounding strange even to his ears. “If that is true lass, why did ye not go back? To your time, to your…betrothed?” Jamie couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice. She breathed for some time, lightly biting her bottom lip before she finally answered.

“At first I was just too fragile. I couldn’t even imagine going through that again. And I was very much afraid.” She smiled a little, like asking his forgiveness for showing her flaws. “About Frank…” Her smile died.  “I think I loved him. Yes, I did. I loved him.” She said slowly. “The person I was _then_ loved him.” She got up and paced around. “I told you I felt something broken. I guess the part of me that loved him was the most afflicted by the damage. And then…” She stopped and looked at him, searching his eyes.

“Then what?” He asked softly, enthralled by her tale.

“I was engaged to Frank since I was a girl. We were the right match - a wild girl in love with an older, sophisticated, man who loved her enough to try to tame her. Then a great war came along and delayed our marriage. I went to serve in the army as a nurse, healing the wounded. We were taking a short leave from our duties to spend some time together when I…came.” She swallowed hard. “I had a life mapped out with Frank, everything planned and a clear path ahead of me. When I came…I saw myself on a crossroad for the first time. I guess I just liked the feeling of having some choice, some room for the unknown. I didn’t wish to be tamed.” She came next to him and sat on the floor at his feet, looking away from him.

“And then I found a purpose here. People that needed me. My life held _meaning_. I delayed time and time again my departure and one day found out I didn’t want to leave anymore. And so I became the Durisdeer healer and never looked back. Or tried not to.”

“No one can faithfully serve two masters.” He said, his voice low. “No one can live in both past and future.”

“Yes.” She said softly. “Not even when the past _is_ the future.” Silence fell between them, both lost for words.

“I presume ye’re not actually a witch?” He said after a while. “Ye just do things…differently. Like they’ll be done one day?”

“It’s called science.” She explained.

“Yes, I’ve heard of Galileo and Descartes.” He was still trying to process her revelations but some veneer of unreality was slowly cracking.

“So you did.” She leaned a little, resting her back against his legs, still not facing him. “But never think I’m not capable of witchy things. I just need the right incentive.”

“I believe ye, _Bean sídhe_.” He smiled and slowly, as those words left his mouth, he realized that he actually did. “Claire… Claire, I believe ye. I do.”

She turned ever so slightly, closing her eyes like coming to her strength, and then faced him.

“Do you, then?”

“Aye.” He said solemnly and then pulled her from the floor, making her gasp, and sat her on his lap. “I knew ye’re different from the moment I saw ye. Now I just know why, exactly.”

Her eyes were filling with tears but she was smiling. She bent her head and delicately rested her forehead against his.

“And Frank?” He asked, not because he wanted but because he had to.

“He is not here. _Now_. You are.” A lonely tear fell from her eyes and Jamie felt the urge to kiss that tear away. “And you are far more real to me than he ever was.”

Jamie felt raw and was fairly sure Claire too felt exposed, her truth bared to him, leaving her naked for his contemplation. He brushed his lips on hers and an echo of the kiss shared shattered the remaining doubts. She had warned him of her sharpened edges but for her he was willing to be ripped apart.

This time she kissed him, her soft mouth slowly testing his, and when she felt him surrender her tongue sealed victory, tasting his own. He had a hand on her waist, gripping her closer to him, and the heat of her body was inebriating. His tongue slowly travelled to her neck, planting kisses and warning her that victory came with a cost. Her hands were immersed in his flaming hair, both controlling the sensation and forbidding him to escape. They stopped for a second and their eyes met. What both saw there was so intense that before Jamie could stop himself he was kissing her again with all his might, his hand exploring the silkiness of the flesh above her breasts. He was lost in her taste, the scent of her hair flooding him, all residual pain in his leg and shoulder drowned by her presence.

Eventually they came apart and Claire delicately kissed the tender flesh of his exposed wound, her tongue leaving a trail of fire on his skin. He pressed her even more against him and she laughed a little. She looked him in the eye and began to slowly undo the laces in the front of her dress.

“Claire.” He said, his voice husky with desire. “Claire.” He repeated and he wasn’t sure if he was begging her to stop or calling her to him. She finished the laces of her stays, so he could see the shadows of her nipples through her shift and his fingers tingled with the prospect of touching her there.

When he was about to definitely lose himself in her, he heard horses approaching and loud voices talking. She had heard them too – before he had time to warn her, she was already on her feet, composing her clothes.

“Stay here.” She said to him, flipping her hands through her hair, making sure there was no visible trace of their recent activities. Her mouth was swollen, but there wasn’t much either one of them could do about it. “Don’t let them see you, Jamie.” Claire warned him, her voice urgent, and then she was off to greet the strangers.

Jamie got up and put on an improvised shirt Claire had made him, using parts of some old bedclothes. He moved like a panther, focusing on the words that were being traded outside.

“ _Bean sídhe_!” A man’s voice was talking. “Fortune brought us together again!”

“Is that so?” Claire retorted, her voice dry. “What do you want?”

“Ye ken fine well what I want.” The man said and by his voice was quite evident that some alcoholic ingestion was involved. “What I want only ye can give me, _Bean sídhe_. I want my rightful place as leader of the clans and ye can give it to me.” Jamie felt a thump in his chest.

Claire snorted with mirth.

“The only clan I can see you leading is one composed of apes.” She replied and Jamie could sense danger, even through the roaring of laughter from other men.

“I could force ye, ye English bitch.” Growled the first man, making Jamie curl his fists, readying himself to intervene. 

“Perhaps.” She answered. “But if my understand of the legend is correct, for you to get any power I had to be willing. Which I’m not nor I’ll ever be.” She was right, of course, and silence fell in the yard.

“Maybe ye need some…persuasion, _Bean sídhe_?” The man said, anger in his voice. “If I go in there and destroy those wee herbs and bottles that ye love so much and give my men orders to beat senseless every woman in sight on the next village?”

“Don’t you dare!” She screamed.

The sudden apparition of Jamie in the yard silenced everyone. He could see Claire flushed, her face a mask of courage but her eyes betrayed apprehension.

“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?” He questioned. The man closest to Claire, which Jamie quickly identified as the source of all racket, was staring at him, measuring the situation. He was tall and dark, with thick brows and an intimidating look of ferocity about him.

“Is this the reason ye won’t have me, you whore?” He spat in Claire’s direction. “Ye’re already opening yer legs to this one?”

“Your manners are lacking, sir.” Jamie said, feeling his temples throb with fury, his breathing coming quicker.  He straightened himself coming to his full height, imposing and commanding. “Perhaps a lesson is in order.”

“That is Red Jamie, is it not?” A short man with chestnut hair exclaimed. “Ivor, I remember seeing him at Leoch. Ye’re far away from home, man!”

“A Fraser.” The dark man, apparently named Ivor, spat. “Ye should be dead as the rest of yer clan dogs.”

Jamie had the tinniest smirk on his lips, looking at the man like he was an ant about to get smashed in his palm. Even without proper clothing and any weapons he was a warrior, and challenge made his bones sing.

“I’m verra much alive. Ready when ye are…. _sir_.” The smirk on his face widened and his tone left clear that those were fighting words. “Better men than ye have tried and failed. The Fraser clan lives on as long as I am standing.”

“Jamie!” He could hear Claire calling him, warning him.

“The lad has courage, I’ll give him that.” Said the chestnut man. “He’s much braver now facing a sword than the last time I saw him at Leoch. That day he was turning green and sweating like a maiden – and everyone was drinking in his honour to celebrate his betrothing. Dinna understand it one bit, the lass he’s to be wed is real bonny!”

Claire let out a gasp and her hands clasped on her chest. Ivor looked at her and then at Jamie, calculating, and an ugly smile grew on his brutal lips.

“Come on lads! I’ll no waste my time today with a Fraser puppy.” He said finally, signalling his comrades to mount their beasts. “Dinna feed yerself with dreams of uniting the clans, lad. Ye’ve been warned.” And turning to Claire, who was pale and shaking. “I’ll see ye soon enough, _Bean sídhe_.”

When finally their mounts left the yard, Claire stepped towards Jamie. When she talked her voice was low but steady.

“Is it true?”

“Aye.” He said, for once looking small and defeated. “It’s true. I’m promised. Claire…” His hand reached for Claire, but she dodged his touch. Her eyes were dull and dark.

“You’re healed enough. I think you should leave.”


	5. Bare

**Chapter 5 - Bare**

_“You’re healed enough. I think you should leave.”_

She turned her back on him and made to enter the house, but Jamie moved and blocked her, trying again to touch her.

“Don’t touch me!” She said, briskly moving her arm.

“Alright.” He said, raising his hands in surrender, showing her that he wouldn’t touch her against her will. “But ye need to let me explain, Claire…Please…”

She looked at him, her face a portrait of contained fierceness.

“Is there really any explanation you may give me that would make a difference, Jamie?” She asked. “You lied to me!”

“Claire, please…!” He started again, but she hadn’t finished yet.

“I told you everything! I gave you all my truth, I bared myself to you and you….you…” She was becoming incoherent, all the anger and sense of betrayal finding a way to her surface. “You’re just like them!”

“What do ye mean?” He asked, furrowing his brows.

“Maybe you just wanted to fool me and get me to bed so you can tell everyone you did it! We both know it’s not important if I could give you any power or not, as long as everybody else believes that fucking legend!”

“Claire.” He said, this time really gripping her arm and ignoring her attempts of struggle. “It was wrong of me not to tell you the truth, but I won’t have ye insulting my morals and calling me false!” He shook her slightly. “I dinna even knew who ye were before. _You_ found me and brought me to yer house!”

She puffed like an angry cat and stepped on his foot with all her weight behind it, making him yelp and let go of her arm.

“And I’ll regret it forever, no doubt!” She screamed. Jamie quickly composed himself after her blow and in one fluid movement grabbed her by the waist, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

“Let go of me you pig-scented-Scot-who-eats-shit! Let go of me, I said!” Claire protested, her small fists thumping Jamie’s back, while he effortlessly entered the house. He rolled her to his front, still securing her in his arms, their faces almost united.

“If I let ye go, will ye please listen to me, woman?” He demanded. She babbled a little and he could pick up random words like “prick” and “sheep-lover”, but slowly the pressure of his arms made her relax somewhat. After some time she sighed.

“I’ll listen, let me go. I don’t like to be touched against my will.”

“Aye.” He said, releasing her. She sloppily sat on the bed. He chose to walk, his thoughts too restless and tangled for stillness.

“I thought,” He began. “You of all people would understand.” He sneakily looked at her, who was now exhibiting an appearance of calm, only betrayed by the fidgety movements of her fingers on the linen.

“Why would I understand?”

“Because of Frank.” He said. She sniffed in disbelief. “Ye told me your story and I believed it. And it was a pretty spectacular story. Ye should at least try to show me the same courtesy.”

“I’m listening.” She defended herself.

“Ye know what is like, Claire.” Jamie started again. “To be alone. To have no place to call yer own. You understand the need to belong, to have something that grounds ye. I think ye found that in your healing. Ye found it being the _Bean sídhe_. But me…” He contemplated the flames that were burning on the hearth. “I was still searching.”

She tilted her chin and he knew he had her full attention.

“As ye know I’m the last Fraser. Since the war I hadna one day of rest, of happiness….until I came here. To you.” His voice was low and husky, baring his truth to her gaze. “I found solace in ye. I find I could sleep when ye held me, I could talk freely without holding anything back. I trusted ye with my life without sparing a thought for it.” His eyes searched hers. “Ye became precious to me, _mo nighean donn_. So precious.”

“So precious you felt you had to lie to keep me?” She asked, her voice quivering a little.

“Yes.” He responded. “I would do that and much more to keep ye, _Bean sídhe_.” Her eyes escaped from his. “Yes, I was promised to a lass six months gone. That was the price the MacKenzie Laird asked for the protection his clan gave me.”

“Quite a high stakes bargain.” She dryly replied.

“I dinna care for the lass.” Jamie continued. “I have no love for her, Claire. But if I’m to be fully honest with ye, the thought of marrying her slowly grew on me. Not because of her,” He added, seeing the look on her face. “But for the promise of my own blood. I indulged for a while in the dream of building a family like I had…once.”

“You could still have it all, if you just…” He stopped her, coming to kneel on her feet.

“It was just like ye and Frank, Claire. Once it could have been possible, maybe even right. But now that vision is forever gone…for I have found you. Ye changed it all, Claire. Ye are my fairy hill, _Bean sídhe_.” The tenderness and truthiness in his voice made her finally look straight at him. Her eyes were shinny with moistness, trapped tears making amber glow.

“I want…” She softly cleaned her throat. “I want you to have what’s best for you. You will be safe in Leoch. I have nothing to give you. And that man said the lass was beautiful…”

“Claire.” He touched her lips with one long finger. “Ye gave me yourself. And I’m glad of it. Ye are enough to me.”

She closed her eyes, her lips slowly kissing the point of his finger.

“I want sae much to kiss ye, _mo nighean donn_.” He said. “But I won’t touch ye without yer consent. May I kiss ye?”

“Jamie,” She took his hand and kissed his palm. “I want you to kiss me. Please.” She smiled and it was the sweetest smile he ever saw.

He softly kissed her on the lips, making sure she knew he had enough self-restraint to stop at her command. Her tongue came out to play with his, her teeth lightly biting his full bottom lip. He moaned against her mouth and his hands searched the fullness of her hair, his body slowly leaning towards her. Claire’s hands were traveling across his back, exerting enough strength to keep him close to her. Without unlocking from their sweet embrace, Jamie got up and Claire surprised him by pushing him to her, so she laid back, guiding his body to rest along with hers. She kissed the angle of his jaw and the hollow space between his clavicles, making him shudder.

“I want to be with you, Jamie.” She whispered, her breath warm next to his ear. ”Will you have me?” He stopped, his breathing shallow, the beating of his heart filling his ears.

“I…” He started and she gave him a curious look. “I have…” He choked a little, one of her brows lifting in silent inquiry. “You will be the first woman I lay with, Claire.” Jamie said, his cheeks slightly flushing.

“Oh…Oh!” Claire exclaimed, her face blossoming like a rose in the spring. “Really?!” She demanded, fascinated.

“Aye.” Jamie’s face was reddening to a shade approaching that of his hair. He caressed Claire’s face and brought his hand down her neck. “I was waiting.”

“For your marriage?” She joked, her hands making circular movements on his low back.

“For you.” He said, his voice husky, as he kissed her again. He made a path of kisses between her mouth and her bosom, making her tremble.

“Ye…are not. Aren’t you?” He asked suddenly, his fingers playing with the laces in her bodice. Claire laughed.

“A virgin, you mean?” She waited for his nod of confirmation. “Well, no. Things actually are different in the future. Everything moves much faster.” Her hands slowly made their way to his backside, making him gasp. “Do you mind?”

“No.” He answered automatically and she raised her brow again. “Well, I don’t like to think of you with another man, of course. But I don’t mind, Claire. That way….you can teach me. How to serve ye properly.”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised but satisfied. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and helped him out of it. He raised on both his arms and looked at her, appreciating how the light of sundown woke the colours in her hair, her eyes sparkling in the half-light.

“I want to do it right, _Bean sídhe_. To serve ye. To worship ye. To love ye until ye forget there was ever another who loved ye, but me.”

She didn’t answer – she didn’t need too. Her fingers slowly undid her laces, like she had before, but this time Jamie had the chance to touch the softness of her breasts through her shift, her desire only betrayed by the hardness atop of them. He helped her out of her dress and stays, his fingers shaking, but when he felt too clumsy and about to draw back, she held his hand on hers and guided him through it, with no more than a smile and a heated kiss.

They laid together in bed again and she moved to be on top of him, her tongue and fingers drawing patterns of desire on his chest. He caressed her legs, slowly building his way up her shift, until she was bared to the thighs.  She straddled him and he captured her to him, his hands resting on her legs. Her hips rolled a little and Jamie moaned, his fingers leaving her waist to bury themselves on the sheets. She gave a throaty laugh and her hands travelled from his chest to her own body, slowly coming up from thigh to waist and navel, until they cupped her own breasts and eventually the bow that kept her shift in place was loose, and in a whisper of fabric she was bared to the waist.

Jamie stared at her, forgetting to breathe for a while, appreciating the contrast of her brown hair with her pale skin, a small scar on her arm like a crescent moon. The smell of her was so appealing he thought he could taste it in his mouth.

“Ye fill me with wonder, _mo nighean donn_. I didn’t know what beauty was until now.” And then she proceeded to become even more so by flushing.

She took his hands and placed them on her bosom and he enjoyed the occasion to have his first lesson on how to please a woman, circling her nipples with his fingers, his tongue leaving a trail of gooseflesh on her sensible skin. She incited him by rocking her hips a little and Jamie felt himself fly to an unknown place, where an incandescent light like the sun awaited, ready to ignite him.

“Claire.” He moaned. When the sensation was just too powerful to bear, he rolled in a swift movement, bringing her underneath him. “I don’t think…I can wait any longer.”

“Don’t.” She whispered, and her hands undressed him from his kilt, while he pushed the folded shift through her head.

They stopped for a moment, their naked bodies meeting at their entire length, shared heat coursing through their flesh. And then Claire looked him in the eyes and opened her legs, anchoring herself around him, kissed him and dragged him to a place where time and space had no boundaries.

He wasn’t expecting the powerful sensation and almost lost himself at once, only the hold she had on him stopping him from letting go. She was so warm and immediate, every sensation magnified by the unexplainable connection shared, their truth finally bared without any layers left.

Jamie tried to go as slowly as his body could endure, but her body claimed violence and he gladly complied. They moved as one, silence echoing everything their breath wasn’t enough to say, and when release came over them, they burst like shooting stars, galloping together across the firmament.

****

Jamie was sitting on edge of the bed, watching Claire sleep. She reminded him of a painting he had seen in an old book, her hair spread around her like a veil, her nakedness pure and breath-taking, challenging anyone to try to grasp the uniqueness of her. He hadn’t known it was possible to love someone in such a manner – uncontrollably and irrevocably.

“What is it, Jamie?” She asked, rolling to him, her voice husky with sleep. “What’s keeping you awake?” She lightly stroked his hand. “I thought you’d be exhausted.” He detected a trace of smugness in her voice.

“I was watching you.” He entangled his fingers with hers. “I dreamed of my father.”

“Oh?” She blurted in a questioning tone.

“I dreamed of the last conversation we had.” He said, tracing the shape of her bared back with his free hand. “He said he was proud of the man I was becoming and kissed me on the forehead.”

She extended her arm and caressed his jaw, stubble prickling her fingers. His body was a shadow, but his hair and eyes glowed under the moonlight like melted silver.

“I have to continue to make him proud, Claire. I must go to Leoch and settle things with Laoghaire.” He laid close to her again, his hand cupping her breast. “And then I’ll come back to ye, _Bean sídhe.”_


	6. Punishment

**Chapter 6 - Punishment**

_“I have to continue to make him proud, Claire. I must go to Leoch and settle things with Laoghaire.” He laid close to her again, his hand cupping her breast. “And then I’ll come back to ye, Bean sídhe.”_

In the morning Jamie left Claire with a fervent kiss and the promise of a swift return, the memory of her body still warm in his hands, and began the journey that would take him to Leoch.

The weather was fine, one of those rare sunny days in Scotland, when the heather comes alive and fluffy white clouds lolled in the distance. He enjoyed being outdoors again after so many days of forced rest and whispered incentives to the mount Claire had lent him, a brown mare called Mary.

When the sun touched his face he closed his eyes, reliving the night before, the smell of growing plants reminding him of Claire’s hair, the bright light almost as blinding as her naked body had been. He had left her only a few hours ago but was already aching with her absence, a permanent discomfort that only his memories of her quelled. He felt strange and incomplete without her, his body half of something made much larger by union.

As he progressed he also began feeling apprehension for his reception at Leoch. He had disappeared during what was supposed to be a short hunting expedition and his uncles probably had presumed him dead by that time. He feared his confrontation with Laoghaire almost as much as the wrath of Colum and Dougal – she was a bonny lass, yes, but also the bearer of a stormy temperament.  Their discussions were a frequent topic of gossip in the castle grounds, for she never seemed to be pleased with his behaviour. She sensed he didn’t share her enthusiasm with the prospect of making her “Mistress Fraser”, though in his defence he had tried to give it a real chance in the last month of their engagement, finding some wild flowers to leave at her door and talking about things she would comprehend. But that was before Claire. That was before he knew what it felt like to find a kindred spirit, a woman whom to share body and soul with.

He knew he probably would have to leave the MacKenzie lands for good, but that thought didn’t cause him any pain. He had Claire and the having of her filled every place in his heart. Everything else would come in due time.

The apparition of a single rider at distance distracted him from his daydreaming – he had spent the last few minutes thinking of the way he would come to her and take her the next time, his fingers touching her secret spots, stealing moans from her soft, sweet, mouth – forcing him to stand straight on the saddle, his hand resting on the blade he carried.

When the rider approached he recognized the silhouette and raised his hand in greeting, a smile forming on his lips.

“Willie!” He greeted. “ _A charaid_!”

“Jamie!” The young man recognized him. They quickly dismounted and hugged each other.  “Here ye are man! Ye had me sick with worrying, searching high and low for yer ass! I was certain ye were deid.”

“Well, close enough.” Jamie said, patting his friend on the shoulder. He and Willie were almost of the same age and good friends since his coming to Leoch. “I had an accident and was taken badly.”

“Ach!” Willie grunted, cleaning the sweat of his brow. “Where the devil did ye go, then? The MacKenzie called a search for ye and nae one could find sae much as one thread of hair from that rock solid heid!”

“Someone helped me.” He said, feeling his cheeks hot. “Willie, I have to go to Leoch.”

“Hmm….” The man measured him with a sapient look. “Ye look different. What are ye about, _a charaid_?”

“I’m to go there and free myself of my commitment to Laoghaire.” He said, his face serious and fierce. “I’m no longer free to marry her.” And then he told him the tale of a mysterious and engaging woman, who saved him from death and loneliness, capturing his heart in the process. He told Willie everything – well, almost everything, for the previous night belonged only to him and Claire and her provenience was also out of boundaries – knowing that his friend would understand.

“And ye say this woman is the _Bean sídhe_?” Willie shook his head, looking astonished. “Of all the reckless things ye ever did, this Jamie my lad…” And he continued to shake his head.

“I had nae choice, Willie.” Jamie said, a smile blossoming on his lips. “She chose me.”

“Ye are in love with her, aren’t ye?” Willie said, still slightly shaking his head but sharing his smile, a look of respect in his eyes. “Jamie Fraser in love with a lassie!”

“She’s not a lassie.” Jamie’s smiled widened, an air of smugness about it. “She’s a woman. And aye. I love her.”

“Well,” Willie said, tousling Jamie’s hair in a companion way. “We best go, then. There’s nae point in delaying the inevitable. Maybe Colum will be relieved enough that ye weren’t eaten by a wolf to let ye go unpunished.”

****

They arrived at Leoch after three days of riding, the dust and sweat almost gluing them to the saddle. Jamie knew he would be summoned immediately to Himself, word of his arrival spreading like wildfire since their first sighting in the fields that surrounded Leoch. So he greeted Mrs. Fitz at distance, waved a hand in appreciation to Willie, and went to wash the dirt and find a decent shirt. He wanted to face whatever was coming looking like a man, not a scared beggar.

As he was washing his face with some warm water from a basin, the knock on the door warned him of the presence of a servant, delivering the expected notice to present himself to the Laird.

He marched through the dark and humid corridors of the castle and knocked on Colum’s study door.

“Aye.” A voice responded inside and Jamie entered.

“Uncle.” He bowed. “I’ve come, as commanded.”

“Jamie.” Colum was sitting on his chair, a book open on his lap, a quill covering his legs, sheltering them both from cold and from curious glances. “Where were ye this past weeks?”

“I was seriously injured while chasing a deer, uncle. It took me some time to mend enough to make the journey back.” Jamie responded, his fingers lightly tapping on his thigh.

“Was it so?” Colum’s cold gaze met his. “I hope ye were in yer death bed to take this long.”

“Like I said, it was serious.” Jamie repeated, impatience flourishing. “Uncle, I…” But Colum interrupted him.

“We were waiting for ye to get back. Your bride is sick, Jamie. Laoghaire has been sick for almost a week, a fever so high she almost melted.” Colum’s face was softer now. “She might not make it. The healer who came said her state is delicate.”

Jamie felt the ground escaping under his feet, pity for the lass filling his heart, but he had to say what had brought him there.

“I’m verra sorry to hear it, Uncle. I shall do whatever I can do help Laoghaire and see her through it, but I won’t call her my bride anymore. I’m here to tell ye our arrangement is nae longer a reality. I won’t marry her.” Colum’s face was pale with rage, his mouth turned to a fine line.

“Ye what?” His head tilted to the side, acting like if watching Jamie from a different angle would alter his words. “Shall I remind ye of your debt to us?”

“There’s no need to it.” Jamie said, a note of anger lending force to his speech. “I’m well aware. Ye never missed a chance to remind me of it.”

“And yet,” Colum’s gaze pierced into him. “Ye have the effrontery of coming here to tell me that ye refuse, not only an honour, but also a direct order from yer Laird?”

“My Laird is dead!” Jamie growled. “Along with my father, my brothers and sister, my godfather and all of those I called family and clan! Where were the MacKenzie when we were being slaughtered in our homes, killed like animals without a chance of fighting honourably for our lives? Where were ye when they took everything that was dear to me, my heritage and my right?”

Colum stayed silent, his face and hands contorted in rage. One hundred heartbeats passed and then two hundred, until he spoke again.

“What brought this?” He asked, his fingers massaging his temples. “Why suddenly to alienate yerself from us?”

“I’m just doing what had to be done. Now I just have the courage to do it.” He smiled, his blue eyes glowing.

“Verra well!” Colum slowly got up revealing his contorted and disfigured legs and talked solemnly. “James Fraser, for your words and disobedience, I ban ye from clan lands. Ye are nae longer under my protection from this moment on. Ye may take yer leave from Laoghaire if ye like and then off ye go.”

Jamie bent his head to his uncle and turned to leave.

“I hope ye know the danger that awaits ye outside these walls.” He heard Colum’s voice say, in afterthought. “Many won’t rest until ye lie ten feet below the ground.”  Jamie looked over his shoulder and gave his uncle a lopsided smile.

“ _Je suis prest_.”

****

“Are ye leaving then?” Willie asked, watching Jamie saddling Mary.

“Aye.” Jamie said, his fingers swiftly adjusting the stirrups. “Colum has spoken and I’m eager to start my punishment.” He smiled. He had been thinking of Claire and the last image he had of her, her lips almost on his when she had whispered _“Don’t be long. I’ll be waiting.”_

“Did ye gave Laoghaire a farewell, then?” Willie inquired, curious. “I hear she’s closer to the veil than to the living, ye ken?”

“I have, but I’ll be back shortly.” Jamie responded. “I’m to fetch Claire so she can heal Laoghaire. If anyone is capable of bringing her back, it’s her.”

“Ach!” Willie’s eyes were big as coins. “Ye intend to bring the lass ye’ll marry to cure the lass ye were to be married with?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Consorting with ye is a full time occupation, Jamie lad. My heid hurts.”

Jamie laughed and mounted Mary, and when he looked to say goodbye, Willie was by his side also mounted on his black stallion.

“What are ye doing?” He asked, surprised.

“I’m going with ye to meet the _Bean sídhe_ , what else _a charaid_?” He smiled and shrugged. “Someone has to see this woman of yours and make sure she doesna have three eyes and the tongue of a snake, aye?”

****

They were close to Durisdeer now and Jamie felt a longing for Claire that resembled a constant ache in his gut. He couldn’t wait for the moment when they would meet again and he would tell her, and - more importantly - show her, how much he missed her.

They were pacing in the shadow of the threes and he felt his mouth dry and the mare restless. He had pushed the rhythm, anxious to get to Claire, and now both of them were paying the price. He briefly conferred with Willie and they led the horses to a burn nearby, where they filled their bellies with cold and delicious water.

He enjoyed the calmness of his surroundings, the pleasant breeze, the thought of throwing himself in the water tempting him.

Suddenly he noticed the absolute silence in the forest, the singing of birds repressed, the absence of snaps of animal’s hoofs. Something was _wrong_.

Almost instantly the smell of burning wood filled his nostrils like a wave hitting his face, making him gasp and cough. He ran for the three line, where a column of smoke was now visible, raising like a pillar of destruction. It was just in the direction he was following, just in line with Claire’s cottage. _Claire_. _Oh God, Claire._

He abandoned the mare, knowing that she wouldn’t be of any help, scared and blinded by the smoke, and ran to Claire’s house, ignoring Willie’s callings. He also ignored the ache in his leg, the leg that Claire had set, the bone still healing bellow the flesh.

Jamie came to the clearing where Claire’s cottage was nestled and saw that the whole house was being consumed by fire, Bathsheba bawling in fright near the fence. His mouth opened in a soundless scream and he kneeled, the image of flames searing his eyes, memories of her smile and the flow of her hair coming to him in rapid succession. Willie appeared behind him and seeing Jamie petrified and useless, ran to untie Bathsheba and guided her to the nearby threes.

He felt more than heard a presence, and turned around to see a figure walk from the threes, swaying with each step. It seemed to be a woman by her clothing, but her face was covered with bruises and her right eye was puffed, swollen almost shut. But there was something so familiar and powerful about the woman that he raised up and took a step in her direction. Two things happened at the same time – he saw gold reflecting the flames in her left eye as she called “ _Jamie_.”

Jamie ran to her, catching her amidst falling, shock making him shiver. He cradled her, calling her name, the touch of her body familiar and terrible. He felt tears clouding his eyes and impatiently wiped them, searching for injuries. Only then he realized what made it so difficult for him to recognize her.

_God, oh God._ Her hair was gone.


	7. Darkness

**Chapter 7 - Darkness**

_God, oh God. Her hair was gone._

He contemplated her face, all his others senses muted. Her hair had been cut by the root and the patches left stood on end, with the bald spaces showing a skin as white as her face’s. With a transcendental calm descending over him, he took inventory of the wounds that marked her beauty. Her face was almost fully covered by bruises and the right eye needed attention; a cut just over her left eyebrow had bled, now covered with a fine scab; her forearms were scratched and her nails were broken, testimony of her fighting spirit; and then there was an ugly looking gash just below her right clavicle. Jamie couldn’t find the strength to look even further – later, if he had to. She looked like a martyr, Joana D’Arc reincarnated, just as strong and vulnerable.

He ignored the tears that stubbornly kept flowing, feeling utterly foolish that the sight that hurt him the most was that of her head. Her hair was such a fundamental part of her identity to him, that he mourned its loss like an absent limb.

Slowly his hearing was coming back, shock yielding to the urgencies of reality, and so he heard Willie’s voice calling him.

“Is she dead, _a charaid_?” Willie asked, his face pale and concerned.

“No!” Jamie almost screamed. “She’s just injured and exhausted. I must take her from this place.”

“Who is she?” His friend asked, his frightened gaze travelling to the gruelling look of her head.

“It’s Claire. My Claire.” Jamie said and Willie gave him a surprised look. “Help me, now!”

Jamie took her in his arms and between the two of them, they managed to take her some distance away from the sight of her ruined house. They built a small camp on the river bank, the air still saturated with smoke and the smell of burnt things, but clearer near the water.

He cleaned her wounds the best he could with fresh water and applied a poultice of leaves over the swelling eye. There wasn’t much else he could do, not without Claire’s supplies that had perished in the fire. He knew she would morn them as much as the house itself, for healing was her basic nature and the loss of her precious instruments would diminish her capacity to help others.

She still hadn’t woke, even during his ministrations. She was just sleeping though, covered by his plaid – Jamie repeatedly felt the pulse on her wrist and leaned over her to feel the heat and moist of her breathing on his cheek, just like he had watched her do so many times during his recovery. It was a deep sleep, that of shock and loss, the body recoiling to a place where it could start healing, the mind finding ways to process the experiences of the body.

Willie was patiently building a small fire and kept throwing inquiring looks at him, but Jamie couldn’t find words to reassure his friend. How to express the horror and fear that filled him? How to tell him that the fault of what happened rested solely on him, for leaving her unprotected? How to put in words how he needed her awake and talking, showing him that she was still her, unmarked and unbroken?  How to say that what he didn’t yet know scared him just as much as the sight in front of his eyes?

Shadows began falling in the forest and around them, night slowly coming to hide some wounds and enliven others. Willie excused himself and went to find something edible to improvise dinner. Jamie knew the exact moment when Claire came awake, for his eyes never left her face.

“Jamie.” She croaked.

“I’m here, _mo nighean donn_.” He said, holding her hand. “I’m here.”

“Fire.” She whispered. “Everything is on fire.” Her healthy eye was dilated and fixed on something above her. “Am I on fire?”

“No.” Jamie explained, his thumb softly brushing her hand. “The house was burning, but ye are safe. I have ye, Claire. I’m here now.” He said, a trace of bitterness seasoning his voice. She seemed to notice him for the first time.

“My herbs are on fire. The bed is on fire. The walls are on fire. Why shouldn’t I be on fire?” She asked, her eyes still fixed. When Jamie began fearing for her sanity, shock cracked and she began to shake, her eye focusing on him.

“Jamie.” She repeated. “Oh Jamie, where were you?” She asked, a sob catching on her throat, her hand gripping his like a claw.

“I’m so sorry, Claire. I’m sorry I wasna here.” He whispered.

“My face hurts and I can’t see from my right eye.” She tried to take her hand to her face but he stopped her.

“You were hurt, _mo nighean donn._ It’ll take some time to heal properly. Ye’ll have to be patient.” She slowly brought her hand to the centre of her field of vision and examined her fingers with renewed interest, slightly wiggling them.

“My hair is gone, isn’t it?” She demanded, her voice stronger. “I thought maybe it was just a dream, but I can see it in your face. He took it.” She bit her lip until a drop of blood formed.

“Claire.” Jamie touched her chest, just above her heart. “What happened? Who did this?” He questioned, darkly thinking _“Other than me.”_

She was silent for a time and then her one-eyed gaze met his. The strength he saw there was enough to align a piece within him, quelling the greatest of fears. She was still there, the _Bean sídhe_.

“I was called away.” She began. “Beileag was to give birth and she needed me. I had to go.” She reinforced, daring him to question the wisdom of her decision.

“Aye, I know ye had.” Jamie said, his voice soft.

“It was such a difficult labour. The baby was breeched and it was Beileag’s first.” She explained. “But above all I think… fear made it difficult. She just didn’t want to put her child in this world. Do you understand?” She waited for his nod. “Her husband was there.”

“Did he do this?” Jamie asked, feeling fear and loss quickly turning into rage.

“He wanted to.” Claire said, looking away from him. “I could feel the ugliness of him just from standing in the same room. The way he looked at me….” She licked her swollen lips. “I felt tainted just by it.”

Jamie growled, but she stilled him with one look.

“He had his eyes on me the whole time. He was angry – I think he suspects that I had something to do with his…recent struggles.” The tinniest of smiles appeared on her lips. “But there was lust there. And fear.” She began trembling again and he moved closer to her, sharing their body heat.

“I delivered a girl, beautiful as a rose petal.” Her face contorted in anguish. “I felt so sorry for her. I wish she had been a boy or ugly as a rat. If Beileag stays she’s doomed…Her father will turn to her before she sees her twelfth birthday.”

“Claire…” Jamie tried to interrupt her, terrified and disgusted by her words.

“I was afraid too.” She proceeded. “Some men want power and can be easily dissuaded if that is threatened. But he seeks nothing but destruction. And that no one can influence.”  She rolled on her side, curling her legs closer to her chest.

“So I refused to spend the night there, afraid of what he could do, and made the journey home during the night. Ivor and his men were waiting for me on the path.” Jamie gritted his teeth hearing his name. “They knew I was alone. He made his intentions clear again.”

“Yes.” Jamie blurted. “I’m sure he did.”

“He wanted me to lay with him so he can lead the clans.” Claire said. “And so I told him that if anyone would lead the clans, it would be you. I have to give him some credit – he quickly understood what I meant by that.” She flushed slightly.

“Oh.” He flushed too.

“He was angry.” Her fist closed. “So so angry. He punched me in the face. That was when this happened.” She said, pointing to her eye. “I fell and he came over me, thinking me helpless. I had a _sgian dubh_ hidden in my pocket and so I stabbed him in the arm.” She was talking mechanically, her voice void of feeling. “I ran away as fast as I can. It wasn’t fast enough. He caught me just outside the house.”

“Did he…touch you?” Jamie asked, his voice quivering. She avoided his gaze.

“No.” She responded softly. “Not like that. It didn’t serve his purpose anymore. He dragged me inside the house and beat me until I was so numb I could be dead and not even knowing it. I wished I was.” Her body was tense as a string pulled to its breaking point. “I tried to stop him. I couldn’t.”

“It’s my fault.” Jamie said, a traitorous tear denouncing his guilt. “If only I…”

“No, it’s not.” Claire interrupted him. “You did what you had to do. You had to go. I know that.” She added softly. “He’s a monster. There are demons no one can influence.”

Jamie closed his eyes, her absolution hitting him.

“When I was down he took his blade and cut my hair.” A tear streamed down her face. “He cut me a little then and when I screamed he said _“Tell Red Jamie to come and claim it back. Tell him I’m waiting._ ” She closed her eyes. “Then he set fire to the house. I almost couldn’t breathe and was blinded by the smoke, but somehow I managed to crawl away and hid in the woods until you came.”

“I’ll kill him.” Jamie growled, clutching her hand to his chest. “I’ll slay him and lay his body at your feet, _Bean sídhe_.”

His words floated between them, suspended in time, the solemnity of a promise resounding in their ears. Jamie felt his innards gripping with hot rage and anger, so hard to bear that he felt the need to scream or to replace it with another sensation. He chose the second, closing his fist and hitting a nearby tree.

“What is it, Jamie?” Claire asked, her voice low. The campfire was burning and the dance of flames reflected in her eye, giving Jamie a strange and uncomfortable echo of their reunion near the burning cottage. He tried to align his thoughts into coherent sentences and slowly started to talk.

“I was with my father in the barn. We were storing hay and talking, as we often did.” He shifted, sitting with his legs curled. “I loved him. When I looked at him I saw the promise of the man I would become, ye ken?” Claire slightly nodded. “I used to tell him everything. Well, almost everything.” He smiled a little, a fleeting recollection of the boy he had been then. “That day…I already told ye. He said he was proud of me and kissed me. Sometimes I think I can still feel the touch of his lips on my forehead, when I’m scared and helpless. It’s a daft thing to say, is it not?”

“No.” She whispered, her hand searching his. “Not daft at all.”

“He must have heard them coming. He knew they would come for us.” Jamie told, his voice hoarse. “He looked at me like he was memorizing something about me and smiled. That is the last memory I have of him.” He looked at his hands, like he could still see him in his palms. “He must have clubbed me in the head and hid me below the straw.”

Claire hand pressed his, lending him strength.

“When I came to my senses I ran outside. I saw men leaving at the distance, riding under the Grant banner.” His eyes met Claire’s. “Ivor was one of them.”

“Jamie…” She sighed.

“I found my father first. They cut his head and placed it in his hands.” His eyes were dark and hollow. “My brothers and Jenny. Everyone in the house. They were all dead.” He gripped her hand with such force that she slightly moaned and he let go. “I buried them all. It took me almost a week to dig all the graves and build the cairns. My hands were raw to the bone by the time I was finished.” He looked at his palms, examining them. “So now ye know. Ye know why.”

“You can’t live in the same world as him, can you?” She asked.

“For some time I thought I could.” He answered. “I held on to the idea my father would want me to have a life and so I tried. If a chance for revenge would present itself I would see to it, but I was not to pursue it.”

“And now?” She was shivering, the night’s cold air and his tale of loss cooling her to the core. Jamie laid down next to her, careful not to hurt her.

“I was alone then. But…it’s not just about me anymore, aye?” He whispered. “There’s the two of us now.”

“Yes.” She whispered back, their eyes locked.

“They hurt you.” He lightly touched her face, his eyes intent and his mouth contorted in pain. “And that means war.”

****

Angry clouds covered the night sky, robbing them of the hope of infinite lent by moon and stars. There was no light to be found that night around them.

They stayed silent for a long time, both aware of the other’s wakeful state, too tired and miserable to trade words.

But something stroke a spark within Jamie and he whispered to her mouth.

“Will ye marry me, Claire?” He could see her outline swaddled in his plaid.

“Do you still want me like this?” She hesitantly said. “I’m not the bride I used to be.”

“Ye’re still you and that’s all that matters to me.” He assured her. “I will want ye forever, _Bean sídhe_.”

“Yes.” She touched his face with her fingertips. “And so it shall be.” Her lips searched his, enough to ignite that small spark and there was light again in the world, endless even after the death of all stars.


	8. Soul of my Soul

  **Chapter 8 – Soul of my Soul**

_“Yes.” She touched his face with her fingertips. “And so it shall be.” Her lips searched his, enough to ignite that small spark and there was light again in the world, endless even after the death of all stars._

In the morning Jamie felt tired and sore, like he’d been trampled by a horse, but content – the promise of his marriage with Claire relieving the aches in his body and soul. It still hurt to look at her though, for her face was a living memory of things taken away from him, making vengeance sing within him.

She woke slowly, grasping for reality with the carefulness of someone deeply wounded, and that knowledge gripped his heart. She felt awkward without her hair and with her face disfigured, and smiled to him with reluctance.

Willie was nearby feeding the horses and when he saw them up and about, came to finally make his formal introductions to Claire.

“My lady.” He said guardedly, bowing before her, and Jamie thought the gesture aimed to show respect but also to avoid to look directly at her face. “Sae honoured to make yer acquaintance. I’m William MacKenzie, but everyone calls me Willie since I was a bairn, and ye may also.”

“Willie.” She smiled but then grimaced at the pain awakened by the movement of her cheeks. “Nice to meet you. I reckon you’re a friend of Jamie’s?”

“Ach.” He grinned. “More like a nursemaid of the lad. He keeps getting in trouble and it’s my job to see him through it, ye ken?”

“Yes.” She glanced at Jamie with humour in her eyes. “I noticed that particular tendency from our Mister Fraser.”

“If he spoke the truth mam, he’s only “ _yer”_ Mister Fraser.” Willie’s grin widened. “The lad is smitten like a cheetie with a bowl of fresh milk.” Claire flushed, the beautiful shade of a rose visible even bellow the purple, green and grey marks and bruises on her face. Jamie gave Willie an intimidating look.

“I think we’ll get along fine, Willie.” She said in a conspiring tone. “Do tell me more.”

They talked for a while, Willie sharing stories of their adventures together as reckless young men. Jamie noticed that he progressively looked more and more at ease with her, even daring to look at her face without showing fear or pity. It appeared to him as if Claire’s nature had captivated Willie just as easily as it had him – they would be friends in no time.

Eventually Claire excused herself to go wash in the river and Jamie took the opportunity to enlighten Willie about what had happened to Claire and his will to make Ivor pay for his sins. He also shared his decision to marry her as soon as it can be managed.

As Claire returned to their company, Jamie offering her his arms for support as she was still weak, Willie looked at them with a thoughtful expression.

“Ye ken…” He started slowly. “I think dark times are upon us. Who keens what will come to pass with Ivor and yerself ready to tear each other’s throats.” He glanced at Jamie, whose face paled with the mere reference of that name. “But first we should celebrate what’s still good. Ye should marry the lass right away!”

“I’d like nothing more, Willie.” Jamie smiled. “But I want to make Claire my wife the proper way. I want to be marrit in a church, with a priest, not handfast as a lad who ran away from his parents.”

“Jamie, I don’t care about that!” She protested.

“Aye, but I do.” Jamie gently touched her face, careful of her wounds. “Let me have this, _mo nighean donn_. Let me give ye this.” Their eyes met straight on, intense emotion dawning in their gaze.

“It so happens,” Willie coughed. “That I ken a priest in the region and he owes me a favour. I may or may not have saved him from a verra embarrassing situation involving a goat.” Jamie furrowed his brow in alarm but Claire gave a crystalline laugh.

“Well, I guess we should leave Bathsheba out of the wedding party, then.”

****

 They travelled very slowly, mostly because Claire’s still fragile state didn’t allow for much time on the saddle. She rode in front of Jamie, secured by his arms, Mary’s ears revealing her unpleasantness for carrying them both on her back.

Jamie was satisfied to hold Claire close to him again, alive and warm, her head slightly thumping his chest with each movement. He learned to appreciate the sight of the back of her neck, the whiteness of her skin even more exposed, ready to be kissed. Still when he saw her in his dreams her hair was there, curling around her face, caressing his body when she kissed his skin. The first sight of her each morning gave him a sudden thump in the chest, the image of his dreams fading, replaced by harsh reality.

Claire was gradually healing, her right eye increasingly more open, the swelling subduing to the touch of time. She still exhibited an array of yellow and purple on her face, but some marks were vanishing. Her spirit was also slowly recovering, as she became more relaxed. But sometimes Jamie would look at her unguarded face and would see the darkness in her eyes, her soul battling ghosts that haunted her.

They came to the priest’s house near a small church, which actually was a cave with a large opening, a wooden cross and improvised altar being the only distinctive features from a bear’s refuge. After the slightest persuasion exerted by Willie the priest, a small and relatively pleasant man, agreed to marry them.

Jamie saw Claire’s gaze travel to her dress, which after her ordeal and the loss of her entire wardrobe in the fire, was approaching the state of a discarded rag. He smiled pleasantly to the priest.

“Is there by any chance a lady nearby that could help my bride getting ready to the ceremony?”

“No ladies here, sir!” The priest quickly denied, shaking his head. “That wouldna be proper!” He continued to shake his head and babbling, making clear to everybody present that _some_ lady was probably a frequent visit in his house. Eventually his gaze travelled to Claire’s clothes and he realized what the question had been about. “Ach, I can help with that. I have some clothes that a puir widower left to be given to someone in need, and ye are that aren’t ye?”

They were whisked to the house and while Jamie went to wash and to shake the dust off his clothes, Claire was left to navigate through a chest filled with garments.

At sunset Jamie was in from of the altar with Willie at his left side, candles creating wavering patterns of shade in the stoned walls, waiting for Claire. They had pressed a second witness, a young girl with dark hair, who came to receive the sacrament of penance and reconciliation.

“Ye are sure about this, aye?” Willie asked him, his voice low. Jamie smiled.

“As sure as of my own existence, _a charaid_. I’m to marry this woman, and God willing I’ll love her right.”

Claire chose that moment to make her entrance. She was wearing a lovely cream-coloured gown, which made her amber eyes excel in the candlelight, and the sweet smile on her face erased almost completely her wounds.

She walked to the altar, her eyes locked with Jamie’s, oblivious of the presence of anyone else. He held her hands in his, and they turned to each other, the words of the priest resounding clear in the walls. Their hands were locked, steadying each other, saying the words the priest commanded. When he asked for the ring, Jamie spoke.

“I don’t have a ring to give ye, Claire.” He said softly. “Our meeting had to be an act of God, _mo nighean donn_. I believe it with all my heart – I was to find ye and make ye my home. And I shall live in you, as ye live in me, and give ye all the fruits of my body and soul. I shall be your master and your servant; and when I do sin, I’ll be made whole by your embrace. But what I do have I give ye – all of me. Will ye take me?” Jamie asked, a fervour in his face burning like a pilgrim coming to Promised Land.

“I will.” She answered, her eyes moist. “I do.” And they sealed their promise with a kiss, to the enthusiastic applause of Willie and the girl, blowing her nose in a hankie.

****

The priest had invited them to stay in his house and after sharing a frugal meal, Jamie and Claire eloped to the room assigned to them.

They talked for a bit, sharing memories of the ceremony, smiles glued to their faces. As the time went by they became more and more aware of each other, the tension building up in their bodies. Jamie helped Claire with her laces and she sat on the bed in her shift, watching as he took off his plaid and shirt, dressed only in his kilt.  

Jamie was desperately trying to think of a way to proceed, but apprehension was making his every move seem deliberate and forced. She was beautiful to him, and he wished to show her just that, but the discomfort in her eyes made him restless.

 “Are you afraid to touch me?” She suddenly asked and her eyes were clear and direct, seeking the truth. Jamie loved her directness but sometimes it was daunting.

“Yes.” He answered, bound by the truth between them. “I’m afraid to hurt ye, _mo nighean donn_. When I look at ye I want ye sae much, and sometimes it’s almost bigger than me, and I’m verra afraid I can’t control myself.” He sat next to her and traced her bottom lip with his finger. “I wish to cause ye no pain, my own.”

Jamie took her hand and kissed her palm, his tongue lightly stroking her sensitive skin.

“And ye?” He questioned. “Are ye afraid?”

“Oh, yes.” She said, her fingers carving the shape of his shoulders. “After what happened I felt…numb. Disconnected. I surrounded myself with a fortress that kept me whole when I should have been blown apart.” She kissed his cheek, her lips softly brushing his skin. Then she stopped and their eyes met.

“But when you touch me, I feel again.” She whispered. “I feel so very deeply. And I’m afraid that once I start, once I opened myself to it, I’ll feel everything. I’ll feel everything that was done to me.” She touched his jaw, lightly as a butterfly’s kiss. “And I don’t think I can survive it again.”

“Claire,” Jamie said, his voice husky. “Let me heal you. Let me share your burden. And when you do feel and it’s too much to bear, I’ll take it.” He took her face between his hands, tenderness and desire filling him. “Let me steal away your pain, _Bean sídhe_ , for you are _Blood of my Blood_ and _Bone of my Bone_.” His mouth came close to hers and he waited for her response, barely breathing, his heartbeat steady as a drum.

“ _Soul of my soul_.” She whispered against his lips. “That we two might be one.” Her mouth surrendered to him and he took her gift, holding nothing back.

He wasn’t thinking of her absent hair when he kissed the back of her neck, making her shiver with desire.

He wasn’t thinking of her swollen eye when he bared her to the waist, taking her breast in his mouth, tracing her nipple with his tongue, awaking pleasure in her body.

He wasn’t thinking of the bruises and scrapes in her face when she took him in her mouth, time yielding to a force as ancient as the sea’s tides.

He wasn’t thinking of the things that couldn’t be when he felt her ready and willing, waiting for him to come and heal her.

And when he entered the shelter of her, the safe harbour of her flesh and spirit, their bodies finally moving in joy, pain and fear long forgotten, he wasn’t thinking at all.

****

He came slowly awake, reluctant to give away his dreams. And yet, when he fully became conscious, he realized that he was still holding his dreams in his palms, as Claire’s body was entangled with his. The grace and perfection of her naked body almost took his breath away. Would he ever get used to it? He wasn’t so sure he wanted to anyway, he acknowledged as he caressed her round arse.

She moved, feeling his touch, and lazily stretched, her thigh strategically placed in a way that made him moan. She smiled, her eyes still closed.

“Good morning, Mister Fraser.” She whispered. “Did you sleep well?”

“Hmhm.” His voice was hoarse and he grinned remembering what had caused it. “Not so much in quantity, but I’m all for quality, ye ken Mistress Fraser?” She swiftly rolled on top of him, laying at length on his body.

“I believe you showed me that last night.” She teased. “But some lessons need reinforcement. Care to show me again?”

He kissed her, his body already aching to take her, but the sound of voices screaming outside froze him.

“Red Jamie!” A man’s voice shouted. “We ken ye’re in there, so come out. I’d have words!”

Jamie jumped from the bed, making Claire yelp, and ran to the window. The courtyard of the house was covered with men, their tartans shinning blue and green in the first light of day, a Campbell banner flying in the breeze.

“I guess the honeymoon is over, huh?” Claire whispered, peeking over his shoulder.


	9. Machinations

**Chapter 9 - Machinations**

_“I guess the honeymoon is over, huh?” Claire whispered, peeking over his shoulder._

They scrambled, trying to get quickly dressed. Jamie’s face was serious and he distractedly tried to tame his dishevelled red hair with one hand, while trying to adjust his belt with the other.

“I think ye should stay here, _mo nighean donn_.” He said. “I dinna want you in any peril.”

“Where you go, I go.” She replied in a tone that didn’t allow challenge, while tying her garters. “Soul of my soul and all that, yes?” He puffed irritated, but while he had been married for less than one day, he had already mastered the knowledge that some battles were better resolved with diplomacy than warfare.

“At least stay close to me or Willie at all times, aye?” She smiled and briefly touched his face with tenderness.

“I was the _Bean sídhe_ long before you came. Don’t mistake me for some helpless and obedient woman.”

“A mistake I have no risk committing.” He whispered between his teeth.

They marched through the hall, finding Willie waiting for them near the front door. He saluted them with a wink and whistle.

“At least ye had time to consummate the marriage, _a charaid_!” He exclaimed, dodging from Jamie’s humorous punch. “Is it too hopeful to wonder if the Campbell clan is here just to congratulate ye on yer wedding?”

“Probably.” Jamie sighed and opened the door, his shoulders straight and his chin high. The three of them stepped outside, as silence fell in the courtyard.

A grey haired man, with a well-groomed and respectable beard, and an even more respectable stomach, stepped forward in their direction. His eyes were light blue and there were wrinkles in the skin around them.

“Red Jamie!” He roared, his gaze fixed on Jamie. “I’m Lord Gavin, Laird of the Campbell Clan.” Jamie’s eyes met his and he held their assault, like a clash of two oceans meeting. Then he slowly bowed his head in acknowledgment.

“I’m James Fraser.” He spoke, his voice strong and commanding. “The last of the Lovat line. This is my kinsman, William MacKenzie.” Willie nodded in respect, placing himself at Jamie’s side. He moved his hand behind him, silently summoning Claire to also stand by his side. “May I also present ye my wife, Claire Fraser?”

“Yer wife?” Lord Gavin’s mouth opened in shock, contemplating Claire’s face. “I canna say I don’t condone disciplining yer wife, but surely this is a bit too much? The lass seems to be verra bonnie underneath all those marks, but now she looks like someone condemned to hang!”

“This wasn’t my doing!” Jamie growled, but Claire put her hand on his arm, stilling him.

“Lord Campbell.” She gracefully bowed. “What you see is the result of a violent attack by Ivor Grant and his tacksmen.” She looked regal and composed, and her eyes were locked on Gavin’s face, evaluating his response. When he heard Ivor’s name his lips pressed in anger. “They burned my house, beat me and challenged my husband.” She added for good measure.

“And what did ye do, to bring his wrath upon ye?” He asked, aiming his question at her.

“I’m the Durisdeer healer.” She smiled a little, sensing more than earing the reaction of the men accompanying him. “People call me the _Bean sídhe_.” And to add dramatic effect, she leaned to Jamie and held his hand in hers. “I refused to lay with Ivor Grant.”

“And you married Jamie Fraser?” A gangling man with a face resembling Mary’s asked, a mix of horror and awe in his face.

“Yes.” She said, her voice clear. “Jamie Fraser is the man I chose.”

The horse-like man was looking at her like he’d expect her to grow an extra arm or a pair of black wings at any moment, but Gavin’s stare was again fixed in Jamie, measuring him.

“So I presume ye wish to squash Grant’s clan, do ye Fraser?” He asked. Jamie smirked.

“My quarrel with Ivor Grant is a long lived one. He shed Fraser’s blood on our own lands, massacred my family and abused my wife, a sacred healer. I’ve in mind that he has outlived his days.”

“I think perhaps we ought to go inside to further conversation”. Gavin proposed, motioning to his men to wait for his return.

They entered the house and sat at the kitchen table. Luckily the priest wasn’t present, probably doing a sermon or attending one of the ladies in his flock.

“Will ye tell us now why ye came here?” Jamie demanded with directness.

“I came to seek yer help, Fraser.” Gavin answered.

“Is it so?” Jamie asked, his tone dry. He had his hand entwined with Claire’s behind the table, grounding him. “And why would I help ye? I don’t recall ye coming to my aid during the war. Actually,” He added, his tone even more bitter. “I seem to recall that ye were only glad to stand aside and watch while the Grants finished us!”

“Lad,” Gavin started patiently. “I’ve no doubt ye are braw and strong, but old age will teach ye that ye can achieve more with honey than with whiskey. Ye’re angry and rightfully sae, but try to use reason.” He glanced at Claire. “Ye have more than yerself to think about, now.”

“Speak.” Jamie said, at last.

“The Frasers were a nuisance.” He said, giving Jamie a warning look when he moved restless. “Dreams of uniting the clans and living in peace, each minding their own land. Ach!” He shook his head. “When war came the Grant’s moved swiftly to claim their lands. The Campbells were too busy handling the MacKenzies to meddle. When sword and shield were laid down, there was only one Fraser left,” He gave Jamie a significant look. “And Ivor Grant owned almost half of the Highlands.”

“I ask again, Lord Campbell.” Jamie slowly said, anger carefully held under his leash. “Why are ye here?”

“The Grants became a nuisance now.” He declared. “Ivor parades around thinking himself master of something other than his cock. Ach!” He spat, showing his despise for the man. “But I spend all the resources of my clan stopping those goddamn MacKenzies from raiding my lands!” He gave Jamie a small smile, showing the absence of some teeth. “I came to ask yer help to settle things with the MacKenzie. That way,” He declared with satisfaction, like a magician showing the selected card. “We both can finally teach a lesson to Ivor Grant.”

“And why do ye think they’ll listen to me?” Jamie slowly asked, his hand gripping Claire’s. “I was banned from clan lands.”

“But ye know them.” Gavin combed his beard with his fingers. “Ye even have the loyalty of some of them.” He pointed his chin at Willie. “And ye’re getting even more interesting these days.” His eyes rested on Claire, a wolf’s gaze shining in his eyes.

****

“So what do ye think?” Jamie asked, bending his neck to look at her face, nestled on the curve of his arm. “Shall I do it?”

They were lying in bed, night enfolding them in a confessional atmosphere, safe enough to share their secrets and fears. Gavin Campbell and his men were camped outside, waiting for Jamie’s response. Claire stayed silent for a while, but Jamie could see her thinking, watching the features of her face.

“It might be a real chance to take back your lands.” She said slowly. “The real question for me is – do you want it?” He thought for a while, steadying himself, his fingers softly tracing her ribs. But he already knew the answer.

“Yes.” He said, his voice hoarse. “When I dream of home, I still see Lallybroch. I see _ye_ in Lallybroch, _mo nighean donn_ , with our bairns around ye. The small part of my heart that’s not here, with ye, is still there.” He kissed the top of her head, empty of hair, her skull graceful under the skin. “Sometimes I think I’ll only be a whole man when I go back there.”

The words drifted between them, like waves in a pond after a stone was casted.

“And then there’s Ivor. He has to pay, I canna rest while he roams this world!”

“Well then,” She kissed the soft hollow of his chest. “I guess that settles it. You have to do it.”

“There will be danger, _Bean sídhe_.” He said, his hand massaging her waist. “For both of us.”

“Danger is a price I’ve come to accept for being here. First, in this time. Then, with you. I’ll take whatever comes, so long as I have you like this most nights.” She straddled him and grabbed his hands, making him her prisoner. “And you have the _mighty Bean sídhe_ by your side.” She added ironically, rolling her eyes. “I thought they were about to wet themselves and kneel before us.”

“Ye wee sneaky thing! I saw ye manoeuvring them like a little shepherd with his disobedient sheep.” He rolled his hips, making her giggle.

“Aren’t you happy that you married the female Machiavelli?” She bit his neck. “Now hush and kiss me.”

****

They started their journey to Leoch without further delay, an agreement established between Jamie and Gavin – his help to make peace with the MacKenzie, and Gavin’s aid in defeating Grant.

This time Claire was riding her mare, Mary, while Jamie rode an irascible black stallion called Donas, which Campbell offered him as a sign of good will. Willie was in good spirits, happy to be traveling towards home, keeping company to Claire while Jamie plotted with Gavin. The other men in their company were either too afraid of her powers, or too impressed by the sight of her face, to manage to talk to her.

“Did Jamie tell ye about Laoghaire?” He asked, one afternoon, as they followed a path close to a loch.

“Yes.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “If the lass isn’t dead by the time we get there, I’ll see if I can help her.”

“Ye do that.” He said, satisfied. “And then run as fast as ye can in the opposite direction. I’m nae so certain it’s beyond her to try and ruin what’s left of yer face.” He patted her bald head, making her laugh and push him.

“You are impossible, William MacKenzie.” She shook her head, mimicking desolation. “No wonder you’re still unmarried.”

“Ach!” He exclaimed with passion. “That is only because I’m sae exigent with the lassies, ye ke?” He laughed.

“What are these two laughing about?” Jamie smiled, Donas trotting to be by their side. “Should I be jealous?”

“Aye.” Willie said serious. “I think Claire here is trying to steal me from ye, _a charaid_.”

They all laughed and kept bantering, their moods high like the sun in the sky. Jamie felt calm, almost happy, now that he had set himself on a course to right the wrongs done to him. Even when he had to spend time talking to Gavin and the men of his clan, his eyes were always searching Claire, the sight of her bringing him peace and fortitude. Her eye was almost healed, and the purples and greys had faded to an array of yellow and green. Her hair was a more delicate matter – it would take a few months before it grew even to resemble the length of his own. But above all he was grateful for the smile that blossomed in her lips and the light in her eyes, knowing her somewhat healed by his love.

At dusk, the sky painted with red, rose and purple, Gavin halted them to make camp for the night.

Claire began the process of building a fire, retrieving some branches and kindling, while Jamie went further among the trees to relieve himself. Suddenly, while composing his kilt, he heard a snap nearby, indicating a presence walking. He unsheathed the dirk he always carried at his waist, finding comfort in the solid presence of the ivory handle.

“Jamie.” Willie’s voice deflated him of tension. “Here ye are. I was talking to Gavin, erm _Lord_ Campbell, telling him that Dougal will be harder to convince than Colum. His pride is always in the way of things, ye ken?”

“Aye.” He sheathed back his dirk. “We’ll handle him, though. Colum is chieftain and his word is law.” They began to walk back to camp, discussing strategies to approach Himself. He could already see Claire, siting by the newborn fire, warming her hands. Their eyes met and she smiled, making his insides turn to melted butter.

When he heard the whistle of the arrow flying through the air at his back, was too late. Willie jumped behind him, covering him with his body. It was like dreaming, time enough to see every detail - like the elegant arch Willie’s body made in the air or the red flower that blossomed in his chest – but helpless to change the outcome.

Claire ran to them, screaming, and they both held Willie, their hands desperately trying to stop the blood of his life from leaving his chest.


	10. Blood

**Chapter 10 - Blood**

_Claire ran to them, screaming, and they both held Willie, their hands desperately trying to stop the blood of his life from leaving his chest._

Chaos ensued around them, men screaming and running for their weapons, the invisible menace heavy in the air. Gavin was barking orders, yelling _“To me! To me!”_ and some of his fastest men were sent to trace the intruder.

But it seemed that the purpose of the attack had been accomplished, as no more arrows found their way amongst the trees.

Claire had her hands on Willie’s chest around the arrow’s shaft, pressing with all her might, her eyes darting to access her next movement. Jamie was speaking in Gaelic to an unconscious Willie, cradling his head on his lap. He suddenly came awake with a gasp and moaned.

“Willie! _A charaid_!” Jamie said.

“Jamie.” He called. “My chest hurts like a fiend. I dinna feel so well.” His eyes searched Jamie’s. “Am I dying?”

“Ye’re not dying!” Jamie said, his voice filled with conviction. “I won’t let ye die, do ye hear me? Ye are not allowed to die!”

“Good.” Willie coughed and grimaced, his breathing shallow and a soft gurgle coming from his chest. “I’m nay so keen on the idea either.”

Claire’s face approached Willie’s, a soft and reassuring smile on her lips, which didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I have you, Willie.” She said softly. “You’ll be up and ready to taunt me in no time.”

“ _Bean sídhe_.” He startled her both by reaching for her hand, gripping it in his own, and by using the name he had avoided in the past. ”If I...Just in case, aye? Take care of Jamie. Take care of _mo brathair_.” He pleaded softly. His eyes, usually heavy with mischief, were clouded and serious. Claire touched his face and smiled, her eyes glowing with emotion, a light caress on his cheek answering him.

“Is yer kinsman badly hurt, Fraser?” Gavin stood behind them. “He surely looks like he’s in need of a dram.”

“Yes!” Claire answered. “Bring me your strongest whiskey. I’ll need to irrigate the wound with it as soon as I take the arrow out.” Gavin looked at her, both alarmed and outraged with her plans to use his good liquor, but at Jamie’s nod of agreement, silently went to fetch his flask. Claire rushed to her saddlebags and came back with a linen piece, which she proceeded to rip into smaller bands, and a rusty instrument suspiciously resembling a small fire poker.

“Now Willie, I’m afraid this is going to hurt.” She waited as he blurted his consent. Claire slightly moved her head and Jamie took his place behind Willie, firmly gripping his torso and sustaining his head.

The next few moments were gruesome to everyone involved, but by the end of it Claire was holding in one hand the arrow taken from Willie’s body, as her other hand poured the strong spirits in his chest cavity. Jamie, white-faced like a ghost, was whispering in Gaelic to Willie in a soothing tone, much like the one he used with Donas when he was agitated and frightened. They were both doing their best to ignore the screams and moans Willie gave every time Claire’s fingers pierced in his chest, accessing the damage.

“We’re very lucky, the arrow didn’t hit any of the major vessels and it seems to have missed the lung by a strand of hair. If I can close the wound and avoid infection, it’ll be fine. I think.” Claire said, biting her bottom lip in concentration, as she tried to slow down the bleeding by applying pressure in the wound.

Jamie looked at her from the corner of his eye, remembering the time when she’d told him what “infection” meant, and the lengths she’d gone to rescue him from a nearly mortal fever. He gently wiped Willie’s face, covered in sweat of fear and pain, mingled with the tears he couldn’t help to shed. Gavin was looming close to them, his face a blur of curiosity and amazement.

“That arrow was meant to end in yer chest, Fraser.” He said. “I’d bet my left ball that Ivor was the sender of such attentions.” Jamie’s gaze was fixed in the place where Claire was suturing Willie with a needle from his own sporran, the young man biting his own belt to keep from screaming until his voice was hoarse. He nodded slightly.

“God willing I’ll see that he gets his present back, sir.” He responded. “And God willing my aim will be better than his.” Gavin smiled hearing this, a spectacle of decaying teeth and a viper’s tongue, and went to join his men.

Night was falling around them, Willie quickly drifting to unconsciousness again, exhausted from strain and dread. Jamie excused himself and went to throw up in the seclusion of a nearby bush, coming back looking broken and gloom. Claire came and sat by Jamie’s side, both silently watching their friend sleep, his breathing more laboured than normal, but fairly steady. He wordlessly searched her hand and squeezed it, feeling the coldness of her fingers and the slight tremor taking over her body. She had a metallic tang about her, iron from the blood trapped under her nails, but there was also an earthy smell of sweat from her efforts. She leaned over to him and landed her cheek on his shoulder, the absence of her hair making the feel of her more solid against him.

“Will he live?” Jamie murmured.

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly, and when she moved to check Willie’s bandages, he saw the diamonds born from tears on her lashes.

****

Willie managed to live, with a persistence that astonished Claire and amused Jamie, even throughout a rupture of his suture from a careless movement and a local infection that oozed with green pus, frankly resembling snot from a small child’s nose. He took it all with good humour and an impenetrable façade, living them with no choice but to follow his lead. Jamie and Claire would take turns to watch him and tend his needs, frequently startled out of slumber from his small whimpers as he slept and healed.

Eventually they resumed their journey to Leoch, and in spite of his protests Willie was placed in the back of a wagon, accompanied by turnips and stale biscuits.

They soon arrived at Leoch, the Campbell banner replaced by a flag of truce. The Campbell men stayed behind, Claire and Willie with them, while Jamie accompanied Gavin to parlay with the MacKenzie envoy at the gates.

“They’ll allow us to come inside the gates and talk, so long as we come unarmed.” Jamie told Claire, once he came back. “I think it’s Colum’s way of stick it to Gavin, as we all know that Scots don’t really need blade or gun to kill.” He shrugged. “If we really want to, our bare hands will do it nicely enough.”

“Shall I stay here and mind Willie?” Claire asked, grooming his plaid.

“Willie is coming with us.” Jamie answered, smiling. “And so are ye. It appears that news of our marriage travelled faster than us. My uncle is eager to meet my wife. The _Bean sídhe_.” He gave her a significant look.

“Lovely.” She puffed. “I guess it was bound to happen, eventually. Should I impersonate the respectable wife, demure and modest?” She looked at his eyes, smiling. “I could, you know. For you, I’d do it.”

“Aye. I know ye would.” He brushed his lips on hers and smiled, his eyes alight with tenderness. “But ye wouldna be able to fool nay one with it, _Bean sídhe_. If there’s a modest bone in yer body, I’m yet to find it.”

****

When Jamie made his entrance in the Great Hall with Claire by his side, all conversations died abruptly, heads turning to look at them. He walked with grace, carrying himself with the authority of an accomplished warrior, although completely stripped of arms, and the sobriety demanded from a potentially unwelcomed guest. Claire was using her unnerving hawk gaze for good measure, giving back the curious and slightly inappropriate stares. The air was saturated with the smell of roasted venison, onions and unwashed people.

They approached the table at the head of the Hall followed closely by Gavin Campbell and Jamie bowed to Colum.

“Uncle, I’m glad to see ye in such good health.” He said and his voice sounded sincere. “May I present to ye my wife, Claire Fraser?” He offered his hand to Claire while she did a curtsy to Colum. His eyes weren’t quite quick enough to hide his surprise at her looks, but he composed himself and nodded in recognition.

“Mistress Fraser, I welcome ye to Leoch.” He said. “Even if my nephew decided to turn his back on us, I shall endeavour to be more graceful.” He gave her a rueful smile.

“I’m sure I’ll find you graceful enough, my Laird.” She said, smiling a little. “Am I quite what you expected?” Claire added with her brutal straightforwardness, seeing his gaze travel to her head.

“No, ye’re not.” He responded honestly. “I expected my nephew to be less wise and choose a lassie mainly by her bonny eyes and plump bosom. Ye’re beautiful, Mistress Fraser, I hope yer not offended – but I do think there’s more to ye than what meets the eye.” Claire smiled and gave him a good-humoured nod.

“You have me at a disadvantage, sir. I think you’re quite what you seem to be.” She said and heard the gasp of Gavin at her back. Colum picked a slice of meat and stuck his dagger through it, bringing it to his mouth.

“And what would that be, _Bean sídhe_?” He asked, his voice placing emphasis on her _nom de guerre_ , showing her that he truly knew _who_ she was.

“Powerful. Perceptive.” She answered, her voice clear and rich as the renish wine in his glass. “Careful. I know Jamie disappointed you, but he didn’t have a choice. As you won’t have about aiding his efforts, if I’m right about you.”

At this time Jamie stepped and told Colum about Ivor Grant, his retaliation on Claire and the cowardly attempt on his life that wounded Willie, now resting in his own room.

“The way I see it Uncle.” He finished. “Sometimes it’s best to go to bed with a Devil ye ken. The animosity between Campbell and MacKenzie gave enough room for Grant to place his hand and threaten to strangle us. I say ye make peace for the time being and deal with the bigger threat.” He nodded in Gavin’s direction. Colum’s brow was furrowed and he was munching a bannock in contemplation.

“And what will keep the Grants from betraying us at the last second?”

“Colum.” Gavin spoke for the first time. “We battled in the past and God willing will do sae again in the future, but ye do know me for a man of its word. I pledge to ye that nay raid will take place, nay assault on yer borders, until our common enemy is defeated and we have a dram in his wake.”

“Verra well.” Colum said at last. “But my war chieftain is away collecting rent. I won’t place my men under yer command Gavin, for all yer good intentions and honeyed words.”

“Nor was I asking that.” The Campbell answered. “My men would have…difficulty following Dougal’s orders as yer men would undoubtedly ignore anything I had to say. We should place command in neutral and capable hands.”

“And do ye have a suitable candidate?” But by his grin it was fairly obvious Colum was seeing where the conversation was going, like following a river on a map.

“Aye.” Gavin grinned back. “James Fraser should lead them to battle. He has my confidence and yer blood runs through his veins. I think ye’ll find him suitable enough.” And their eyes fixed on Jamie, who looked imperturbable even with two wolves making him pray.

****

“That was unexpected.” Jamie said, watching Claire stripping off her stays. They were preparing for the night in their new chambers, his old room not being fit to a proper married man. Claire snorted.

“Only to you, my lad.” She smiled and walked to sit on her new dressing table, untying her garters. “Gavin had been cooking this since the moment you met him.” He went to her, kissed her softly on the lips and sat at her feet, his back leaning on her smooth legs.

“This is all about the prophecy, ye ken?” He said, slightly moaning in pleasure as she started to massage his scalp, her fingers tangled in his ginger hair. She smelled of rosemary and beeswax. “Gavin thinks that since I married ye, I’m invincible in battle. The misfortune with Willie only reinforced that idea. He’s counting that the men under my command would believe it and especially that our enemies would too. When ye’re a soldier…” He added slowly, trying to compose his thoughts. “Moral is at least as important as weapons and tactics. That idea could change everything.”

“That is the beauty and danger of self-fulfilling prophecies.” Claire said softly. “We may never know what is cause and what is consequence. Does it matter if you’re really invincible so long as everyone else believes it?”

“It matters to me.” Jamie said, his voice hoarse, catching her hand and tracing the lines in her palm. “I dinna want to be a fraud. I dinna want to lead them to their deaths.”

“Jamie.” She whispered. “It’ll be alright.”

“You see…” He moved his head to look at her eyes. “I’m scared of leaving. Of leaving _you_. If I die, there’ll be nothing left of me. That thought is almost unbearable, Claire.”

“You won’t!” She said ardently, pushing him. He was kneeled in front of her, their eyes almost at the same level. “And you’re wrong.” Claire added softly. Her hand captured his and slowly placed it on her belly. His blue eyes were clouded with confusion for a moment, but slowly realization dawned in him, his eyes and soul alight.

“Are ye sure?” He asked, breath caught in his throat.

“Yes.” She smiled to him, her eyes blazing, love and certainty mingled there. “You can never leave me now, whether you will it or not. All the prophecies in the world couldn’t tear us apart. Blood of my Blood, Soul of my soul.” She whispered. “We’re one and you’ll live on.”

He hugged her by the waist and laid his head on her lap and silently dissolved into pieces, tears of joy and longing pouring from his soul, the promise of his blood alive between his hands.


	11. Crann Tara

**Chapter 11 – _Crann Tara_**

_He hugged her by the waist and laid his head on her lap and silently dissolved into pieces, tears of joy and longing pouring from his soul, the promise of his blood alive between his hands._

The next morning Claire decided to finally visit Laoghaire, since Jamie was out making plans with Colum and Gavin. She had talked to Mrs. Fitz about it and had obtained permission to see if she could help the girl – Colum was the MacKenzie chieftain, Dougal his war chieftan but Mrs. Fitz was Leoch’s true commander. Laoghaire’s state seemed to be somewhat improved since Jamie’s visit to the castle, but she remained very weak and fever frequently burned under her skin.

Claire first stopped in Willie’s room, her heart lightened by seeing him awake, his cheeks without the scary paleness they had exhibited in those first few days, complaining of the delay with his morning porridge.

The room in which Laoghaire was recovering was bathed in shadows. Claire could see her profile in the half-light, which once must had been beautiful and soft; her features now made raw, flesh close to the bone.

“Who are ye?” Laoghaire asked in a weak voice, making an effort to sit in bed.

“I’m Claire.” She answered softly. “Claire Fraser.”

She watched as the lips of the fair girl contorted in distaste, making her face look almost grotesque. Her skin was clammy with sweat.

“I dinna want ye near me.” She hissed. “Ye witch!” Her hand, previously resting on the sheets, made the sign of the horns for protection.

“I’m not a witch.” Claire said, patiently. “I’m a healer. I’m quite good at it, actually. I thought I might be of help. Mrs. Fitz tells me you still have a fever.”

“I have nay need of help from a heathen whore!” She shrieked. “Ye bewitched Jamie, my sweet lad, and made him marry ye to accomplish yer evil purposes!”

Claire snorted in response.

“And what would those evil purposes be?” She answered. “Having my hair shaved from my skull, my face beaten into a pulp and my house burnt to ashes?”

“Jamie is destined to great things, he’ll be an important man and ye want the power he could give ye!” Laoghaire said.

“Are you serious?” Claire asked astonished.

“Aye! Jamie was mine and ye took him from me! He loved me!” She moved restless, her once delicate face made even more brutal by anger.

“He was never yours to begin with!” Claire said, annoyance starting to emerge. “You had an arranged marriage, one he didn’t want. I’m sorry….but he never loved you, Laoghaire. You must know that.”

“He told me he did…many times.” Her blue gaze fixed on Claire, like a blade cold with its steel. “When he laid with me. He told me he loved me then. Jamie promised me we’d be together for always.”

Claire felt her chest tight with rage.

“We both know you’re lying!” She roared. “Stop lying!”

“He took my maidenheid in the stables one night.” She said, a cold smile forming on her lips. “And had my body many times after that. He’s such a gentle lover, my Jamie, isn’t he?”

Claire moved closer to the door and glanced at Laoghaire.

“I think you have Rock fever. You should stop drinking milk from the goats and eating cheese.” She said softly. “And maybe…maybe you’ll live.” She opened the door and exited the room, her hands protectively covering her invisible companion, Laoghaire’s screams following her across the hall.

“I shall see ye burnt to ashes! Ye and the devil spawn ye carry in ye! Oh aye, I know! I _see ye,_ witch! Jamie will be mine again and I’ll strip him off yer evil, yer name forsaken and every memory of ye replaced by me!”

****

Jamie entered his room feeling tired and gloom, after a whole day being torn apart and disputed by Campbell and MacKenzie. He was eager to lay in bed with Claire and simply watch her sleep, his hands protectively placed on her still flat stomach, his heart too filled with love, pride and fear to find sleep with easiness.

The news of his impeding fatherhood filled him with a happiness that could not be contained with something as words – he had felt a piece of him finally falling into place, like he had found something that was missing, which he needed to be made whole. But last night he had also felt something waking up inside him, something primal and ancient, that made every fibber of his being crave to protect Claire and their unborn child.

He had never been so afraid in his life. Not even when he lost his family; when he came to live with strangers that had no love for him; when he fell into the abyss that led him to Claire. He was happy, _so very_ happy – and with that joy came the fear of losing it all, suddenly and furiously, leaving him broken and incapable of functioning ever again.

 He saw Claire immersed in a wooden tub, steam ascending from the water, the smell of herbs and lemon strong in the heated room. She was half-siting against the side of the tub, her head resting on the edge, eyes closed and a relaxed look about her face. He had never seen her more lovely and desire coursed through him like a jolt from a lightning strike.

“Ye look so bonny just now, _mo nighean donn_.” He said, careful not to startle her. “I could look at ye like that forever.”

“I missed you today.” She said, smiling a little, her eyes still closed. “How was your day?”

He sat on the bed, watching fascinated as she scrubbed her legs, the glow of the fireplace and candles reflected in the water.

“Long.” He sighed. “But the _Crann Tara_ is ready, we’ll light it tomorrow night.” She furrowed her brows, opening her eyes to look at him.

“I won’t pretend I know what that means. Care to explain?”

“It’s the fiery cross, ye ken?” He started to take off his boots and socks, fresh air coming as a relief to his tired feet. “It’ll burn tomorrow and then a messenger will ride with it, taking it throughout the MacKenzie and Campbell lands, and every man and lad will know that the chieftains cried for war.”

“Oh, I guess it has to work since there is no radio or telephone…” She said, placing her hands in a shell to cascade water over her head.

“What?!” Jamie asked, fazed, stopping in the middle of the process of unbuttoning his cuffs.

“Oh well…” Claire said slowly and proceeded to explain the wonders of communication in the twentieth century.

“And ye can really hear them!?” Jamie said, his eyes open in awe. “And ye dinna have to wait for days to the sound to come?”

“No. It’s like that.” She snapped her fingers, whooshing water.

“Are ye sure ye’re not a witch?” He shook his head. “That sounds a lot like the work of the devil.”

“I’m not.” She smiled, amused by the look of wonder in his face. “But perhaps Mr. Alexander Bell was. Well, _will be_.” She shrugged, implying her incapacity of dealing with the riddles of time. He snorted.

“May I join ye?” He asked, his eyes glowing with mischief.

“I wish you did.” Claire gave him a little seductive smile. “The water won’t keep warm much longer.”

Jamie finished to undress and slowly entered the tub, careful not to throw overboard too much water, and sat across Claire. He found her foot and began to massage it.

“So what is the matter, _mo nighean donn_? Is it…the pregnancy? Are ye in pain?” He asked softly, his voice somewhat strained. She glanced at him, disconcerted. He gave her a lopsided smile.

“Ye have that wrinkle on yer forehead. Ye always have it when ye’re worried or angered.” He expanded his caresses to her calf. “Ye canna really expect me to love ye every day and night and not to know the secrets of ye.”

She sighed.

“I went to see Laoghaire.” Claire started, her words floating between them. “She wasn’t too happy about it.”

“Aye…” Jamie said, his forehead wrinkled with worry. “She isn’t a forgiving lass.”

“That bitch!” Claire screamed suddenly, her hand striking and splashing water around her. “That cold-hearted bitch!” She had a ferocious look on her face. “She told me you’d bedded her. Several times.”

“Claire…” Jamie started to talk, but she interrupted him.

“I knew it was a lie.” Claire said, her eyes flaming. “I _know you_ , James Fraser. I know your heart and the language of your body like my own heartbeat. I know _who_ you are, _what_ you are. You can’t hide from me.”

“Aye.” He whispered, still stroking her graceful leg. “When I chose to give ye the truth, I gave ye all that went with it. Ye could rip my chest open and look inside of it and see only yerself reflected there, _Bean sídhe_. Ye alone hold everything that I am, and everything I’ll be.”

He took her hand and pulled her close to him, their bodies pressed against each other in the watery world.

“I want you, Jamie. I need to feel you.” She whispered, kissing the hot flesh of his neck.

“I…wouldn’t it hurt the bairn?” He questioned hesitantly. “I dinna wish to cause ye or our child any harm, my own.” She laughed, her mouth almost touching his.

“I think our baby is as resistant as his father.” She nuzzled him on the cheek. “He already survived some brutal things.” Jamie looked at her surprised and she nodded. “I’m quite certain that I was already pregnant when Ivor…hurt me. I think it happened the very first time we came together. And you see…he’s still here.” She gently covered his hand with hers, placing both on her stomach. “Besides, the only thing that hurts is being away from you.”

He kissed her soft mouth, showing her just how much she was a wonder and a blessing to him. Then he planted small kisses on her slippery skin and with a powerful lift brought her to his lap, their figures embedded facing each other.

They stayed silent, letting their bodies express themselves in a language that knew no bounds or restraints. He was gentle and slow, worshiping her blossoming body with a carefulness that made her melt; she was fierce and sometimes rough, showing him that she truly knew and commanded him, his beauty and flaws in the same capacity, and she’d have them all if he let her.

When kisses and caresses weren’t enough to quell their need, Jamie shifted her hips and entered her, both oblivious of the water splashing around them to the floor. He tried to move slowly, his teeth finding shelter on the soap scented skin of her neck, aroused beyond all senses by her presence, her fertility and the moans and whimpers that she made. Claire’s nails found his back and she made him anchor to her ride, her hips rocking harder and harder, finally letting herself go beyond all borders of propriety and self. And when they both couldn’t hold out any longer, pleasure came over them and washed away every coherent thought, leaving them with each other’s name seared in their minds and lips.

“Mine.” She demanded in a whisper, still holding him.

“Yours.” He conceded, gasping in response.

The water was already cold and their bodies were quickly losing the heat of their spent love, so Jamie swiftly took her in his arms and stood out of the tub. Claire was sleepy and tender, unable to move and make proper sleeping arrangements. He dried her up with a towel and put her to bed, covering her dazzling white body with a warm quilt, smelling of sheep and woodsmoke.

“Mine.” She whispered again, gently sliding to sleep.

“Yours.” He whispered back to her dreams, delicately stroking her belly.

****

The next night found them in Leoch’s big courtyard, surrounded by a multitude of men wearing their finest garbs and weapons. The moon was full in the sky, bathing the shape of the cross with a silvery glow. Drink and food were all around them, brought out from the kitchens in honour of such an important occasion, without any considerations of expense. The aroma of roasted boar and quails, apple pies, grilled onions, strong cheese and whiskey made a pleasant symphony in their nostrils.

When the time came to lit up the _Crann Tara_ , Colum held the torch and then passed it on to Jamie. He stood there in the centre, his height rising above all other men, his red-hair catching the glow of the fire, his cheekbones made harder by solemnity and shade. He was wearing his lonely Fraser colours and looked like a Viking berserker, preparing to raid the Scottish lands.

“When I was a lad I heard my father talk about peace.” He said. “It was his dream and I shared it, for when men have peace their lands flourish. When a man has peace he has time to plough, to love his wife, to teach his bairns how to fish and hunt, to grow old and even to forget how it feels to take a life.” His eyes moved, fixing random faces around him. “And so it’s with a heavy heart, that I must ask ye to follow me to war.” His voice was the only thing breaking the silence of the night, strong and incisive, inflaming everyone around him. “We canna continue to ignore the evil that’s coursing in our lands, the loss of too many worthy men. Ivor Grant and his allies left us with nay other choice. I call for war because I must, so help me God!”

He moved the torch and the _Crann Tara_ caught the fire, blazing in splendour, a soundtrack of screams and war cries awaking the night.

“ _Tùlach Àrd_!” Jamie screamed, followed by countless voices. He searched for Claire’s eyes, quietly observing the events from the periphery of the circle, and came to stand next to her.

“Claire.” Jamie kissed her in the mouth, his lips tasting of strong ale. He guided her to a more reserved spot and whispered to her. “Promise me that if anything shall happen to me ye’ll go back. To the stones and yer time. Please, _Bean sídhe_. Promise me that or I canna do this.” She searched his face, coming to terms with his plea, knowing herself unable to deny him that comfort, but also unable to ultimately keep her word.

“I promise.” She said finally, closing her eyes, sending a quiet prayer to the universe.

“Would ye go back to him?” Jamie asked softly, putting his arms around her. “To Frank?”

“I’d go back, if I must…to protect the baby.” She whispered. “But not back to him. Not to him. I couldn’t. Not after you. There’s no turning back after being loved by you.”

In spite of the flames that sang in the night, they were both chilled to the bone, the fiery cross reflected in their eyes, screaming for war across the Highlands.


	12. Guardian

**Chapter 12 - Guardian**

_In spite of the flames that sang in the night, they were both chilled to the bone, the fiery cross reflected in their eyes, screaming for war across the Highlands._

One month after the lightening of the _Crann Tara_ , Leoch was drowned with fighting man and with each passing day more made their way through the gates of the Castle. Jamie, Gavin and Dougal, recently returned from collecting rent, spent their days evaluating their troops and making sure every man had at least a shield and a rough sword to fight with.

Claire, by then sporting a length of hair approaching that of newly grown grass, sticking on every end, was also busy doing thorough inspections on the health of the arriving soldiers and dealing with the injuries that were bound to happen when so many clansmen lived in small quarters, sharing drink and testosterone.

The night before a council of war had taken place in Colum’s study and the decision had been made: they were to march at dawn two days hence, headed to the border of Grant’s clan lands. Jamie had come to the room he shared with Claire looking preoccupied and tired, only finding solace when he laid next to her, his body sheltering hers, his hands resting on the little swell of her belly.

Sometime during the night, Claire had suddenly woken up with a queer feeling, only to hear Jamie softly speaking in _Gaelic_ close to her ear, his words incomprehensible to her if not for the love and anguish they carried. She had turned to him, wordless, and touched the moistness on his cheeks, offering him the strength and breath of her life, keeping darkness at bay with the shield of her body.

At dawn Claire emerged from slumber to find Jamie already dressed for the day in his kilt, sitting on the edge of the bed, contemplating her. A grey and cold light was streaming through the drapes, making it look like he was immersed in an underwater world. His eyes were blue and intent, a softness about them that wasn’t there the night before.

“Come back to bed, Jamie.” She purred. “I’m sure not even the chickens are awake yet.”

“I wish I could, _mo nighean donn_.” He smiled. “But we leave tomorrow and there’s still so much to do. I meant to go without waking ye, but couldn’t. Ye look so beautiful with this light, flushed from sleep and the bairn inside ye.”

“Hmpf.” She snorted. “All beauty will be gone as soon as he,” She patted her stomach. “Finds out I’m awake. I’ll be puking my guts out in about three minutes.” She wrinkled her nose, making him laugh.

“Ye look bonny even then.” He said, caressing her thigh. “Because that means ye’re carrying my child and I could burst with joy with that mere thought.”

“I’ll remember you of that fact – _your_ child – when he cries in the middle of the night, asking for a change of clot.” She peeked at him under her lashes, smiling.

“Claire.” He said, and the way he called her name weakened the smile in her lips. “Ye have to stay here. I can’t take ye with me when I leave.”

“I won’t leave you!” She hissed, sitting up abruptly.

“I’m afraid ye’ll have to, Claire.” He said seriously. “It’s just too dangerous. Nay one knows what will happen once we reach Grant’s lands and even before...” He locked his gaze with hers. “I canna risk it. I canna risk ye.”

“Jamie, please!” She pleaded, touching his hand. “Don’t ask me this! I can’t leave you! I need to be where you are. Besides you’ll need a healer to tend the men and I don’t believe you have anyone more capable than me.”

“Aye.” He nodded. “And it pains me to deny them your skills, _Bean sídhe_. If things were different, perhaps…” He moved closer to her, his hand lightly touching her face. “But it’s not just ye anymore, aye?” His other hand rested on her midsection. “I canna put ye _both_ in danger.”

“I don’t mind!” She refuted, stubbornly. “It’ll be fine, I’ll do everything you ask of me, I promise! I’m not afraid!” He shook his head.

“But I am!” Jamie said vehemently. “If we lose - and dinna be mistaken, it’s highly possible that we do – my child will be the only thing to remain in this world to confirm that I was here. To prove how I loved ye, Claire. For I love ye beyond life itself and victory would be void without ye to share it.”

“Please…” She said again, tears of frustration and fear forming in her eyes. “I can’t, Jamie! I can’t bloody live without you! Don’t ask me to. Please…”

“Ye will if ye have to.” He smiled sadly. “Ye are so brave and strong, _Bean sídhe_. When I met ye, I thought ye were so powerful and magnificent, that ye had to be some magical being…I was maybe slightly afraid, even if my body already lusted for ye. But then I knew ye and saw ye were only a woman – but that didn’t mean ye couldn’t be those things anyway.” He kissed her on the lips with all the tenderness in his heart. “I believe ye came here for me – we were fated to be together. But ye existed somewhere else before, ye were yer own person, and you can return to that if ye must.”

Their lips touched again, exploring and demanding, the longing of impending separation lending despair to their connection.

“Know that ye take me with ye always, _Bean sídhe_. My heart, my love.” He reached in his sporran and took out a silver ring that he placed in her palm. It was simple and delicate, a fine band adorned with a thistle bloom in each link. The light coming from the window highlighted the letters carved inside it, which read “ _Soul of my soul”_.

“Will ye wear it, _mo nighean donn_?” He whispered, his blue eyes fathomless and bottomless like an ocean under the sunlight. “To remember me by?”

“I’ll keep it until you come back to us.” She slid the ring to her finger, a tear streaming down her face. “Until you can say it to me again, my love.”

****

It was one of those days that linger in memory, the wizardry of time making it look like their final day together could last forever – but obviously it couldn’t. The hard moments went by with slowness and unbearable clearness, while the sweet moments rushed through their fingers like sand.

Dusk found them in their chambers attempting to share a peaceful meal in Willie’s company. By then he was almost fully functional, although he still suffered from crippling recurrent pain in his chest and was still recovering his old strength, almost all his muscles lost in the process of fighting for his life.

Willie had been sharing news and gossips brought by the constant flow of arriving men, amusing them with his natural charm of a storyteller.

“We shall miss ye, Mistress.” He smiled to Claire, pouring wine in his cup. “I’m sure the lad here even more than me, but even so….”

“Willie,” Jamie said in a soft tone. “Ye’re not coming with the army. Ye’ll stay here, in Leoch.”

Willie’s face was the mirror of disappointment, his smile suddenly frozen on his lips.

“I ken I’m still not as strong as I used to be,” He said in a pleading tone. “But I could still be of use. Jamie, _a charaid_ ….please! If ye wish to treat me like a wounded horse at least have the curtsy of putting my suffering to an end.”

“Willie.” Jamie placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder, squeezing it for comfort. “I have to leave ye here to protect Claire, ye ken? There’s nay one else I’d trust with this, _mo brathair_.” He smiled in incentive. “It’s the only way I could find any sleep at night and avoid killing myself with worry. l’m leaving my heart and soul to yer keeping, man.”

Willie’s face turned from discontent to apprehension and then to decision.

“Och, aye.” He grabbed his shirttail and scrubbed his face, plainly to hide his thoughts for a moment. “We’ll have a bonny time taking over Leoch, aye Claire?” He valiantly smiled to her.

“I’m sure we’ll find some occupation.” Claire answered, smiling back. They were both being left behind, even if for different reasons, having nothing but each other’s company for placation. She cared for Willie very much and seeing him so distraught was weighting heavy in her heart. “We can always count on Laoghaire to keep things interesting, I believe.” She joked, being rewarded with Willie’s laugh. The girl had recovered during the last few weeks and could see roaming through the Castle, bad mouthing Claire at every opportunity, leaving chaos on her wake.

They talked for a while, slowly settling to their parts in the foreseeable future. Claire excused herself and went to find a chamber pot in their room, grunting about the pleasures of pregnancy.

“Jamie.” Willie said seriously, putting his dirk above the table. “Ye can trust me with this. I’ll let nay harm come to Claire or the bairn, even if I have to sleep outside her door. I’ll be her guardian in all things.”

Jamie nodded and breathed deeply, as if the air didn’t come as easily and effortlessly to his lungs as it used to.

“I beg of you Willie,” He said finally. “See them safe, no matter the cost.”

****

“I canna help but remember the last time I left ye, _Bean sídhe_.” Jamie said, holding her body against his. “And the heartbreak that followed.”

“This time I’m not alone.” She twitched the hand that carried his ring, the weight of it a permanent reminder of their unbreakable bond. She glanced at Willie, holding Donas’ reins while they said their goodbyes, and smiled.

“It’s time.” Jamie said, his voice strained, kissing her wedding ring. “I’m not sae good at saying goodbye, least of all to ye, _mo nighean donn_.”

Their eyes met, close enough to see the anguish of their souls, and the resolve that kept them going in spite of it. Claire nodded slowly and Jamie mirrored her gestured.

“Not goodbye, then.” She said and kissed him ardently, their bodies pressed one final time, a last reminder of the life he was trying to protect by leaving her.

“Not goodbye.” He caressed her face and then his hand travelled slowly across her body until he cupped her belly. “ _Tha gaol agam ort_.”

He turned away and without looking back mounted Donas and rode away, leading an army behind him.


	13. Witch

**Chapter 13 - Witch**

The rain was pouring outside like a curtain of endless water, the earth tired of absorbing the wrath from the skies, puddles forming a path for reckless children to follow in the morning.

Claire was nestled on her side of the bed, asleep, her arm tentatively reaching to the empty space where Jamie used to lie next to her. Her other hand was wrapped around a paper, stained and worn from travelling and the trials of repeated readings, safely imprisoned against her rounded belly.

_My dearest Claire,_

_It’s the first night I have a roof over my head since, what by now certainly feels like, immemorial times. My legs are covered with dried mud, and my every bone aches with tiredness at the thought of scrubbing myself free from it. You would think me both filthy and careless, and be right on that account, as usual._

_We arrived today at a tavern and found shelter for the night. I can hear the men singing, cursing and laughing outside, and they seem to be a world away; and yet they have commanded almost my every action and thought in the time since my parting._

_Our swords have been put to the test on many occasions these last few weeks, – mostly skirmishes with bands of Grant’s and MacGillivray’s, apparently lured into fighting against us by the devil himself - I’m pleased to say we’ve been blessed with victory everytime, thank God. I’m even more jubilant to tell you that two nights ago I shared words with the MacAlister and persuaded him to join our cause. Our numbers grow everyday, men hearing our calls for war in every croft and village, and with it my determination grows but my heart burdens. They are my responsibility now, Bean sídhe, and failing them would cost us all too much. Everything._

_We march into Grant’s lands, headed to Lallybroch, where most of his clansmen are encamped and where the main battle will certainly take place. I can’t quite find the words to tell you what it feels to be returning home, but home not being there to see me back. I trust you know the sorrow that accompanies me these days, as you know the ways of my heart better than myself._

_I ache for you, Claire. I yearn to be in the safety of your embrace and be amazed by the size of your belly. I miss your voice and the smell of your skin in the morning as I miss warmer days._

_Yours is the ban that I carry above all, Bean sídhe. I shall do war to have a lifetime of peace by your side. Please, be careful until we are reunited. I love you both._

_Your most devoted and cake-mudded husband,_

_James Fraser_

A sudden knock on the bedroom’s door pierced through the silence of the night as a rock hitting still water. Claire woke up with a soft moan, disoriented after being pulled so fast from deep sleep. She sat in bed and, rubbing her eyes to help disperse the last fragments of a vivid dream involving Jamie’s mouth, called for permission to come in.

“What is it?” She said alarmed, seeing the young maid staring at her.

“I’m ever so sorry to disturb ye, Mistress.” She bobbed her head, her cap slightly crooked and her black hair tousled underneath it. “But a strange woman arrived at the gates of the Castle, asking to speak to the _Bean sídhe_.” She gave Claire a fearful look under her lashes. “I wouldna bother ye Mistress, but she claims she is acquainted with ye.”

“Does she?” Claire asked, furrowing her brows. “Did she give you a name, then?”

“Och, aye, Mistress. She insisted me to tell ye that Beileag has come for yer help. I left her in the kitchens, waiting while I summoned ye.” The maid shrugged, indicating her powerless position to stop random people from appearing in the middle of the night. Claire gasped and got out of bed, moving to retrieve her discarded _arisaid_ from the back of the chair and wrapping it around her shoulders for comfort and warmth.

“Does she have a baby with her?” She asked, following the maid through the halls, cold in the dim light of the torches.

“Aye. A bonny little thing, if I may say so.” The young maid smiled and Claire managed to smile back, in spite of her apprehension with the unexpected visitors.

They arrived at the big kitchen, unusually cold at such late hours, the huge fire banked for the night. The lean and fragile figure was waiting near the hearth, trying to absorb the reminiscences of heat, a dark cloak shrouding her. Claire watched with tenderness the way she cradled the small infant in her arms, until she looked up and saw her.

“ _Bean sídhe_.” Beileag whispered with relief, coming to hold her hand. “I’m sorry I came here Milady, but I dinna ken what else to do.”

“You are always welcome, wherever I am, Beileag.” She smiled, noticing with a thump in her chest the prominent black smudges under her delicate eyes, a vanishing yellow mark on her cheek that she recognized all too well and the slimness of her wrists. “And how is our little lass?”

“Oh, she is a bonny wee thing.” The lines on Beileag’s face softened, while she slightly turned to give Claire a better look at the child’s face. “My daughter. My Sorcha.” Claire gave her a surprised look.

“You named her Sorcha?”

“Aye.” Beileag nodded and smiled. “In yer honour, _Bean sídhe_. In the honour of my friend, a great healer. A great woman, as I hope she’ll be some day.” Her eyes glanced away. “Not powerless like her mother.” And she started to cry, tears rolling away from her blue eyes while soundless sobs devastated her body. Claire mechanically took Sorcha in her own arms, whispering soothing and meaningless sounds, until eventually Beileag sat down beside her, limp and exhausted but much calmer.

“What happened?” Claire asked. She noticed the maid, yawning in the corner and, smiling internally, made a discreet nod to indicate that she could go and find her own bed.

“I had to leave my home, _Bean sídhe_. I had to.” She stretched her arms, asking Claire to give her the child who was beginning to wail with hunger. “Sorcha wasna safe there. My husband, Duncan…he….couldna hurt me like he used to. Not after yer help.” With a practiced hand she bared one breast and started to feed the little girl. “He’d still beat me, sometimes I had trouble walking or talking for a few days, but it was an improvement nonetheless ye ken?”

“No.” Claire said, sighing. “I don’t think I understand.”

“He dinna care for the little lass, much of the time. But four weeks ago she began to cry and cry and nothing seemed to help her calm down. I think she had a sick belly because her legs were always sae curled and she was sae desperate…”

“You’re right.” Claire added. “She probably had a bad case of colic.”

“Aye.” Beileag nodded. “I was just outside the house, washing some cloths. I heard her cry and when I came in Duncan was holding her and…and…” She swallowed hard. “He shook her and shook her and his fist was around her neck. I screamed and begged for him to let go of her, and when he didn’t I hit him with a vase.”

“Beileag!” Claire exclaimed. “Well done! That pig-sucking bastard!”

“Och.” The young woman flushed. “I ran away with Sorcha while he was…down. I looked for ye and found yer house in ashes.” She gave her a sympathetic look. “I heard what happened, _Bean sídhe_. I’m sae sorry for the pain those men caused ye.”

“Please.” Claire took her hand and pressed it in acknowledgment of their bond. “I’m Claire to you.”

“I took some coin my husband had hidden in the barn, so I had a little money to keep us going. Eventually the news that ye’d wed Red Jamie reached me and I made my way here. There is talk of war throughout the Highlands - people ken _who_ leads the army against Ivor Grant. He’s the one ye chose. All of those ye helped…Claire….they remember. They will fight for ye and Red Jamie.”

They stayed in companion silence for a while, hearing the soft and comforting suckling noises Sorcha made and her purr of satisfaction when Beileag finally held her to burp.

“I ken he’s coming for me.” The fair woman said calmly, her voice controlled. Her hand travelled to Claire’s belly, gently resting there. “Will ye protect Sorcha? Ye’ll become a mother yerself, Claire. Please, protect my daughter as yer own.”

“I will protect you _both_.” Claire said decisively. “And our children will grow up together, as friends, and us to see it so.”

****

The next few days were spent in permanent alarm, although they both tried their best to maintain a façade of calm. Claire had talked privately with Colum to ask his permission to keep Beileag as her companion, answering as evasively as possible all of his questions about her marital problems.

She had seen magic happening in front of her eyes the moment Beileag and William had met. He hid it well, most of the times behind his humour and gallantry, but she saw it clearly – William was in love with Beileag. His eyes softened everytime he looked at her and even his voice was deeper and richer when addressing her. He used her name at every opportunity, savouring it in his mouth like a rare wine. He held Sorcha with tenderness and care, always alert to her every sound and need. William was smitten by mother and child, spending an abnormal amount of time in their company, when usually he would be tending his horse or exercising to get his strength back.

That knowledge amused and concerned Claire, for Beileag was a married woman after all – and married to a very dangerous man.

Both women were knitting one afternoon in the parlour, sitting by the opened window to absorb the rare warmth of the glowing sun, when they heard the racket outside the door. Claire’s hand immediately went to the blade she always carried in her sock for reassurance. They could hear loud and angry voices pilling outside, and above all was the roar of a man Beileag knew all too well.

“It’s him!” She squealed. Claire placed her hand on her shoulder and gripped it.

“I won’t let him take you.” She said fervently. “I won’t!”

The door opened with a boom that made them both jump and a small crowd flooded the room. To her growing apprehension, Claire saw Laoghaire’s face among the agitated crowd.

“Here ye are, ye conniving whore!” Duncan screamed, his face red and his eyes almost bursting in his eye sockets. “Come here, now!” He moved to grab her arm, but she dodged.

“I’m not going back with ye, Duncan!” Beileag screamed back. “Only deid I would serve as yer wife again!”

“Oh is that sae?!” He roared. “The bitch thinks she has a choice! I’m yer husband and ye’ll do as I say it’s done or I’ll slap ye until ye dinna even ken yer own name.”

“You heard her.” Claire said, changing the position of her body so she would be in front of Beileag. “She’s not coming with you, sir.”

“I knew this had to be yer doing!” He growled, his outbursts of saliva showering near Claire’s face. “Ye put those ideas in Beileag’s heid, did ye not? Before ye came along, she was a decent woman, a little stupid and slow, but knew her place.”

“The witch surely used her spells on Beileag, as she did with Jamie Fraser.” To Claire’s consternation, Laoghaire stepped ahead and talked directly to Duncan. “Puir woman, never stood a chance. This is all on her!” She lifted her finger and pointed it at Claire. “Witch!”

A choir of “Witch!” and “Sorceress!” was heard among the vibrating crowd, constituted not only of some newcomers from the nearby village but also of familiar faces from Leoch, faces Claire knew and had helped in several occasions during the past few weeks.

“You don’t understand!” She tried to reason with the crowd. “He mistreated her and the baby!”

“He did his duties as a husband!” Laoghaire said, receiving a new wave of agreeing exclamations from the mob. “I say burn the witch and rid Beileag and all of us of her evil!”

Claire grounded herself, hearing the cheers and savage insults directed at her. The tension was escalating quickly and she was losing all control of the situation.

“Take her!” Laoghaire commanded and two men, one of them Duncan, moved to grab her. She struggled briefly and hit one of them with a mighty quick in the shin, desperately fighting to free the knife from her garter.

“What the devil is going on in here?” William’s voice imposed over the ruckus, making them all freeze for a second.

“We’re doing God’s work here, Willie.” Laoghaire said, her hands on her waist. “We need to rid ourselves of the witch.”

“ _Claire_?!” William said, incredulous. “Claire Fraser?”

“The _Bean sídhe_!” Laoghaire stomped her foot, hissing at his use of her name by marriage. “As Jamie’s friend ye need to help us. He doesna have to ken yer part in this, Willie. He’d be free and would return to us.”

“To ye, I think ye mean.” Willie said, furrowing his brows. “Claire Fraser is my friend and I owe her my life. Touch her with one finger and I think I’ll need to cut it off, Laoghaire MacKenzie.”

The mob was buzzing like a hive, angry and uncontrolled, hungry for blood and mayhem. Sensing this, William took his pistol, primed and ready, and pointed it directly at Duncan.

“Let go now…sir.” He said calmly. “Ye’re touching the Durisdeer healer and I’m thinking by the look on her face she doesna appreciate it. Back ye go.”

Duncan hesitantly let go of Claire’s arm and stepped back, growling like a rabid dog.

“Ye’re a MacKenzie, William!” Laoghaire screamed. “Ye’re allegiance is with us, yer clan! Would ye dishonour yerself for her?” She gave Claire a venomous look. William looked at Laoghaire and returned her words with a distasteful glance.

“I swore an oath to Jamie to protect his wife and child.” He stated. “Yes, I am a MacKenzie. But my allegiance lies where my heart is. I shall follow the most worthy and I ken nay one more so than Jamie and Claire Fraser. I ken no honour greater than to call them my friends.” He said and Claire’s heart was warm with affection for the man. “Now… _Back. Off._ Or I’ll put yer vicious insides on display on the wall.”

Threatened by William’s aim and imposing figure, the crowd slowly receded and went through the door, back to their usual duties. Laoghaire was the last one and the look she gave Claire was pure hate.

“Now, sir.” He said to Duncan, the last one standing there. “I think we’ll go and talk to the Laird. I’ve a mind ye’re eager to tell him how fervently ye wish for yer wife to remain under the protection of Claire Fraser. Shall we go?”

Claire put a hand on her belly, making sure her small occupant was still there, and walked to Willie, leaning towards him.

“If I have a son,” She whispered, caressing his cheek. “I’ll name him William.”

****

Claire was walking across the Great Hall at Leoch, the stoned floor cold under her feet, her shift flowing around her as the wind came roaring from a window. The door in front of her was dark and solid and she caressed the ancient grains of the wood, before she pushed it open.

The knight was there. He was wearing full armour, his complexion hidden under an elegant helmet, adorned with thistles. She looked curious to him as he offered her a hand, covered with a gauntlet.

“What’s the message?” She questioned, smiling to him.

The man shook his head, speechless. Slowly he raised a hand and pushed back his visor.

Claire screamed as she saw his face, stripped of flesh and muscle, composed only of bones glowing like ivory. His orbits were empty and black, but as she contemplated the void there, she understood he saw everything that was and would be.

He stepped closer to her and Claire found she couldn’t move. He reached for the sporran that was lying on the floor at his feet and took out a heart, which he presented to her, pulsing and beating, alive in his palm.

“Why are you showing me this?” She asked, shaking, her eyes captured by the gruesome offer. He slowly held out his free index finger, pointing at her.

She looked down, fear flooding her brain like water. In her chest was a hole, dark and endless, her heart gone from her.

Claire woke up screaming, her hands instantly searching her chest for the hole that was there, just a moment before. But what she found was a frenetic heartbeat and sweaty skin, even though the feeling of emptiness remained. She knew something terrible had happened.

She got up and opened the door of her room, almost bumping into Willie who was about to knock. He was discomposed and his eyes were red, his hand shaking while he held out a note to her.

“A messenger has come.” He said. “Jamie is missing.”


	14. Promises we can’t keep

**Chapter 14 – Promises we can’t keep**

_“A messenger has come.” He said. “Jamie is missing.”_

She stood there, her brain stubbornly refusing to give sense to Willie’s words, but a terrible cold spreading through her chest, at the exact same spot the hole had been in her dream. _Missing._ Gone. Jamie was _gone._

“I’m going to be sick.” She whispered and blindly stumbled inside her room, just in time to grab the chamber pot and let go of all the contents of her upset stomach, some of the paralyzing fear also making its way out of her body. Willie was standing next to her, prepared to catch her in case she decided to suddenly collapse.

“I don’t understand.” She babbled, cleaning her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Here.” Willie said, passing her the note he clasped in his hand.

_William MacKenzie,_ it read,

_It’s with deep sorrow that I inform you that James Fraser, commander of the clans’ army, has been missing for the best part of a week at the moment I write you this unpleasant words. The last time he was seen was in the midst of an ambush played by Grant’s clansmen, during what was supposed to be a peaceful rendezvous with a group of Chisholm men. Although he fought valiantly, he was greatly outnumbered and injured during the fight. The few men that managed to escape and lived to tell the tale assured me that he was still alive when he was taken by Ivor Grant. We push towards Lallybroch, as planned, our hearts heavy with grief but our souls alight with vengeance. May the Lord cast his merciful shade upon James Fraser and grant him a warrior’s clean death._

_He wished me to inform you with diligence in case anything happened to him and to remind you to keep his wife safe at all cost. To her, he wished me to say only “You promised.”_

_Your most humble servant,_

_Gavin Campbell_

Claire read the note three times, until the words that danced before her became coherent. Outnumbered. Injured. Still alive. Clean death. _Gone._

“I have to go.” She said, looking at Willie, her face feeling numb and expressionless. “I have to find him!”

“Dinna be daft, Claire.” Willie answered, putting his hands on her shoulders to still her. “Ivor Grant has him. Ye ken what that means.”

“Bloody hell!” She hissed, as tears of desperation, fear and rage formed in her eyes. “Bloody, bloody hell! How could he?” In her mind she saw them both standing beside the Crann Tara, when he made her promise to go back through the stones if anything happened to him. _You promised_.

“Ye have to stay here, Claire.” Willie was still talking, slightly rocking his body to calm her. “Jamie wanted ye to be safe above all things. He would cut my bollocks if I dreamt of letting ye wander around war lands to find him. Ye have to think of the bairn.”

She was thinking about their child alright. The child Jamie already loved so fiercely, the promise of the family they would build together. Claire could almost feel his hand caressing her belly, as he so often did thinking her asleep, sharing his dreams and fears with his unborn child. _Gone_.

“How dare you, James Fraser?” She sobbed, her hand protectively wrapped around her stomach, as to shield her baby from the terrible news. “How dare you to leave me behind?” Claire breathed fast, trying to calm herself. “Please call the maid so she can help me get dressed. I’m going.”

“Claire.” Willie was serious, his voice strained. “Ye canna go. Jamie…Ye know he could…He mostly likely is…”

“Don’t say it!” She pleaded, sitting on the edge of the bed before her legs gave way. “Please, don’t say it.” Claire curled her hands into fists on her lap. “If you say it, than I’ll fall apart and I don’t think I can come back from it. If you say it then it’ll be real and I’ll have to mourn him.” She locked her eyes with Willie’s. “I can’t mourn him. I just can’t. Not while there is still a chance he’s alive.”

“ _Bean sídhe_ ….” Willie started sitting beside her, but Claire interrupted him, putting her hands of his face.

“I used to hate when people called me that. Until Jamie came along. He made it mean something else, he made it…. _mine._ ” She licked her lips. “I _will_ go, even if I have to knock you down. So get out of my way, William MacKenzie.”

He glared at her, and for a moment his anguished face had an amused look about it.

“I dinna stand a chance against ye, aye?” He sighed. “At least have the kindness to defend me when yer husband tries to throttle me, for not getting ye away from danger. God knows ye too are such kindred spirits…stubborn enough to wed each other, I’ll say that much. I’m coming with ye.” He patted her very short hair. “But first we have to make sure Beileag is safe here, aye?”

****

“So you will give her your protection.” Claire said decisively. She was sitting in Colum’s study, looking pale and regal like the ghost of a queen. “She’s to remain here until we come back.”

Colum gave her an irritated look, but there was a hint of appraisal on his tired features.

“Ye truly are an unusual woman, aren’t ye Mistress Fraser?” He said slowly. “To come marching in my own Castle and command what should and shouldna be done.”

Claire shrugged, her hands still rigid from the cold that had set on her body, never to leave, since the news of Jamie’s disappearance.

“You can tell yourself that it was all your idea, if it suits you best.” Her amber eyes pierced through him. “Jamie was leading the clans at your command, so I expect you owe him at least that.”

“Aye.” He responded. “But never forget that ye set him on that path, _Bean sídhe_. If ye’d never encountered Jamie, he would be here, safely wed to Laoghaire. Yer union made the clansmen believe he’d been chosen to end this war.”

Colum’s words hit her like a slap in the face. _Gone._ She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from cursing him – after all she needed his help to maintain Beileag and Sorcha out of Duncan’s hideous hands.

“It must be hard…” She said slowly. “To be the Laird and stay behind with the cripples, women and children, having to watch your own nephew gain all the fame and looks of respect from the men you should lead.” Claire smiled a little. “We are the ones left behind, Colum MacKenzie, you and I.  We have more to gain from being allies than enemies.”

“And what if he’s deid?” Colum asked. “What if ye find him only to bury him?”

Claire forced her lungs to breathe deeply for a minute, composing herself before answering him, her voice sounding clear, without quivering. _You promised._

“Then I would be gone, back to the life I once led as the Durisdeer healer.” She sustained his gaze. “Removed forever from your sight.”

****

Everything was ready for their departure at dawn of the next day. Claire laid in bed fully awake, her open eyes resting on the empty space beside her.

_He moved inside her with tenderness, his blue eyes never leaving her face, like he was trying to memorize everything about her, talismans to be kept during their time apart. She was watching him too, the way he smiled a little when he thrusted harder inside her, proud of the way he made her moan. His soft curly red hair, soaked from the sweat of love and lust. How he closed his eyes when she rocked her hips harder, taking him deeper, his pleasure held on a tight leash until he had given her everything he wanted, all of himself. How he kissed her thoroughly until she was completely out of breath, her nails digging on his back to ask for his mercy. And the small noises that he made, like a battle fought inside him, when he couldn’t wait any longer to spend himself._

_“Promise me you will come back.” She said, their bodies still joined, reluctant to let go of him for she knew that afterwards laid separation. “Promise me, Jamie.”_

_“I will come back, Bean sídhe.” He formed a trail of kisses between her mouth and her belly, his lips gentle like wings of a moth, until he tasted her. She opened herself to him, yielding to a second assault on her senses, words gone from her brain like a distant thunderstorm._

_“I promise.”_

“I can’t keep my promise. I can’t leave you.” She whispered to his memory. “Can you keep yours?”

Claire looked at her hand, his ring glowing in the soft moonlight, and as she did so a soft movement occurred inside her swollen belly. She laid very still for a while, deciding if it had been a fleeting sensation from her imagination, but soon she felt it again, a small bubble sliding and popping inside her.

“Oh, Jamie.” She called him in the dark, a tear rolling down her cheek, joy from the sudden realness of their child mingled with despair. “Where are you?”

****

It was always dark and the smell of mould and decaying things made his stomach lurch. As a way to distract himself from it and to pass his awaken time, which was much more than he would desire, he busied himself by counting his teeth. Again. Still none was missing, albeit the bruise on his cheek and the gnash on his gum from an insidious punch.

With remarkable detachment, he made an inventory of the destruction on his body – besides a painful mouth, he was fairly sure he had at least two fractured ribs, a battered belly that probably wasn’t bleeding internally, a crushed finger on his left hand and a respectable collection of scrapes and bruises all over.

The cell was getting more claustrophobic with each passing day, its size barely allowing any movement. He felt like a rat in a cage and that wasn’t doing any good to his already dreary mood.

He had been left alone most of the time after his capture, but he didn’t entertain any thoughts of that state of things remaining so forever. Ivor had him where he wanted him and it was a matter of time until he came to pay his tribute.

Jamie’s thoughts drifted to Claire. She probably had been informed of his disappearance if Gavin had made good on his promise. How long would she wait before she went back through the stones, to her own time? Even though a small part of him still had hope of an escape, he had no wish for her to stay until they delivered her his dead body. Once Ivor secured victory she would never be safe again, or the child. She had to go as soon as possible.

The idea of two hundred years separating them took all the air from his lungs, almost making him choke. His body trembled with fear and desolation and he clenched his teeth to keep himself from screaming in agony.

He must have found sleep, or at least blissful unconsciousness, for a short period of time, for the sound of the door unlocking made him jump in sudden fright.

The man entered the cell, a torch in his handd making his face look grotesque, his features melted in shade.

“Red Jamie.” Ivor said.

“Ye bastard!” Jamie returned the greeting.

“I see this past few days dinna teach ye the due respect.” The dark haired man answered and his foot deployed a kick in Jamie’s stomach, leaving him panting on the floor. “I’ve a mind it’s time for us to get reacquainted.”

“What…do ye…want?” Jamie growled.

“What I want?” He could hear the sheer amusement on the man’s voice. “It’s quite simple, really. I want ye to publicly acknowledge I’m the true ruler of clan’s lands and advise against anyone defying me. I want ye to bow before me. To lick my shoes if I order ye to lick them. To jump when I snap my fingers. And when I’m finally done with ye, ye’ll go obediently into yer grave and I shall have yer whore, the _Bean sídhe_ , moaning my name. After I send yer child to lie under the cairn with ye, that is.”

Jamie jumped and his hands were around Ivor’s throat before he had time to blink. They struggled briefly, Jamie gripping his neck as hard as he could, feeling the resistance leaving Ivor’s body. But suddenly a blow on his back knocked him on the floor again.

“Hold him down.” He heard Ivor coughing and spiting in the corner. He rolled on his back, arms keeping him on the cold and moist floor, the sound of water drooping somewhere.

He watched as Ivor grabbed a mallet and approached him, a promise of vengeance glowing in his eyes.

“ _Hold on. You promised.”_ He heard Claire’s voice whisper to him. And so he did.


	15. Death

**Chapter 15 – Death**

Claire and William rode hard the next few days. Even though every part of her body ached and she felt a permanent discomfort in her back and belly, she pushed relentlessly for them to continue, even beyond the hours after dusk.

She could feel Willie’s eyes always watching her, concerned, and sometimes he would open his mouth to start to speak. But inevitably something in her face prevented him from saying what was on his mind. She knew what his main fear was, though – he was anxious for the baby, concerned that their mad gallop would endanger her pregnancy. Claire was afraid too, but tried to suffocate the creeping thoughts of losing both Jamie and their unborn child in that hopeless journey. With each passing day the chances of finding Jamie alive and whole waned and the sickening feeling of despair grew.

Initially they tried to talk and maintain a sense of normalcy, but soon enough they were both immersed in their thoughts, too tired and terrified to have a proper conversation. One night Claire woke up amongst the heather, disoriented and screaming after a vivid dream where she shrouded Jamie’s handsome and graceful body, and found Willie’s arms around her. They hugged each other like castaways after a shipwreck, tears concealed by merciful darkness, aware of the loss that awaited them if they failed.

“Lallybroch!” Willie exclaimed one afternoon, standing on his stirrups to look at the distance. Their clothes and horses were soaking wet after a whole day being fustigated by rain and hail. Clare shared his relieved enthusiasm, patting Mary on the neck.

“Let’s go.” She said and they trotted ahead.

As they started to come down the hill, she saw Lallybroch for the first time. It was a beautiful sight, a solid manor in a beautiful landscape. Jamie’s description of his ancestral home was entirely accurate and Claire’s heart ached with the realization that he wouldn’t share with her the first glance of the house that still lived in his dreams.

They could see the encampment built in front of the house, tents popping from the ground like mushrooms in rainy weather. The Campbell’s and MacKenzie’s banners were flying in the wind above the biggest tents.

“Mrs. Fraser.” Gavin looked truly shocked to see them, as they were taken to his presence by a young looking soldier, cheerfully babbling about their great victory in the battle a few days ago. The Campbell was sitting in the best place by the fire, placidly munching a roasted chicken leg.

“Lord Campbell.” Claire acknowledged him with a small nod. “I’m glad to find you in such good spirits.”

“Och, aye.” He smiled with alacrity, pointing to the space near him for them to sit down. “Our Lord Jesus has been good to his most obedient sheep. A great victory was granted to our side, the Grants chased away to their stronghold, Castle Lovat. Lallybroch is ours!”

“You look like a healthy enough sheep, that’s for sure.” Claire responded with dryness. “Lallybroch belongs to Jamie and to nobody else.”

“I must give ye my deepest regards for the loss of yer gallant husband, Mistress.” Gavin said and he sounded sincere. “I can’t say enough of his courage and his value. If not for him, we wouldna be here.”

“I appreciate that, Lord Campbell.” She bent her head. “But he is not lost to me yet. What can you tell me about the circumstances of his capture?”

And so Gavin gave them an expanded recount of the ambush and the fight that followed it, even though he hadn’t been there. He was a good storyteller like most decent Scots, who knew when to make a dramatic pause and how to place his voice to ensure maximum effect. The other men present, mostly prominent tacksmen of the clans involved, had probably heard the tale more than a handful of times – but still they stayed, hypnotized by it, adding some details to guarantee the veracity of the story.

The charged looks which she received assured her that they knew who she was; fear, admiration and reverence the predominant sentiments mirrored on their faces.

“Do you have any idea where they could be keeping him?” She asked afterwards, trying her very best to ignore the glance of pity that Gavin gave her.

“Lass.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “It pains me to crush yer hopes, but ye must ken it’s a fool’s errand. Even if he survived a day or maybe two, Ivor Grant wouldna let him survive this long.”

“I canna speak for Claire,” Willie answered, putting a hand on Claire’s shoulder to steady her. “But I’ve been known to be a fool myself.”

****

Claire was staring at the flames, silence surrounding her after all men were asleep in the fields and inside the house. She was sitting by herself, slowly revolving the embers with a long stick, asking wordless questions to any deity available to listen to her.

“Claire.” A whisper came to her ear, as Willie sat by her side. She could barely see his silhouette under the new moon.

“What is it, Willie?” She asked, recognizing the worried tone of his voice.

“I’ve been playing darts, drinking and talking with men from the clans.” He said. “Trying to see if anyone had any information that might help us, ye ken?”

“Did you find out anything?” She asked, hope lending an edge to her voice. He gripped her arm in the darkness, as a warning to keep her voice low.

“Nothing that will help us find Jamie.” He answered. “But I ken now that the encampment has been on edge this past few days, men screaming at each other and brawling. I guess victory isna as pure and jolly as Campbell wanted us to believe.”

“Why is that?”

“MacKenzie and Campbell, MacAlister and Chisholm, Cameron and MacLeod…they canna even agree if honey is sweet. They followed Jamie and respected him. He kept them together.  They need Jamie to finish this.”

“Don’t we all?” She whispered.

****

Sometime during the night Claire must have dozed off, awaking when an owl called between the trees. Her entire body was rigid from bone-deep cold and she tried to flex her hands and knees to get her circulation going. Her _arisaid_ had slipped off and she wrapped it around her arms, furiously rubbing to generate heat.

“ _Bean sídhe_.” Someone whispered in the dark, making her jump in surprise.

“Who is that?” She asked, her hand quickly searching for her knife.

“I’m sorry to disturb ye.” A man’s voice, talking near her. With the flames gone and without the glow of the moon, his features remained invisible to her. “I needed to have words with ye, but wanted to avoid others.”

“What do you have to say to me, that couldn’t be said in front of others?” She asked carefully.

“I’m a Grant, _Bean sídhe_.” He said quietly, surprising her enough that she didn’t make a move to run for help. “I have been infiltrated in the army for some time, sending word whenever I can to Ivor Grant about plans and strategies…about your husband.”

“You’re a mole.” She said, her mouth dry. “A traitor.”

“I’m nay traitor. I followed my Laird’s orders, as we all do.”

 “Was it you?” She asked slowly, a bitter taste coming to her mouth. “Did you deliver Jamie to Ivor on a fucking silver platter?!”

“Aye.” He answered hesitantly. “It pained me…I had no hate for Red Jamie. He’s a good man and a born leader. Maybe in another place, another life…I’d follow him. I’d call him my Laird.”

“Have you come to finish the job?” She asked, putting her hand on her abdomen. “You fucking coward!”

“ _Bean sídhe_.” He repeated her _nom de guerre_ and there was something about the way he said it that calmed her. “Ye saved my wee son, two years ago. He had the pox and nay physician nor healer would touch him. And yet ye came into my home and treated him like a mother would. He lived because of ye.”

“Ian.” She said, suddenly recalling with vividness the boy. He had been little and very weak, touch and go for a while. A lovely boy, with brown hair and gentle eyes, that she fought with every ounce of knowledge to save. Claire recalled some details of his father, an uncharacteristically caring and educated man, but the memory of his looks was smeared and blotted, like an old stained looking glass.

“Ye saved him.” He repeated. “I owe ye a life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I came to tell ye where ye can find yer husband.”

****

There was no pain now, not anymore. Maybe he’d finally hit the threshold beyond this life and he next one; or maybe his body simply wasn’t able to process more unpleasant sensations.

His left hand was crushed, he knew it. Crushed and maimed beyond repair – not even Claire could mend it, the bizarre angles formed by the shattered joints attesting the destruction. His back was a dramatic testament of fury and resistance – burns, cuts and welts from the lash marked on his skin.

Everyday Ivor would come and apply calculated force to ensure the message was being apprehended. Everyday brought another lash or another blow of the mallet. He wanted do break Jamie, to bend him to his will, to reshape him into something that no man would follow. Everyday Jamie would give him a wry smile and bore in silence his punishment. Everyday he would promise in silence to this father the justice that was due to him. Everyday he would hold on to Claire when the pain became unimaginable; he would lie next to her and be healed by her love; he would see them in a future that may never come to pass.

“I will conquer ye. I will put pain in yer every thought until there’s nothing else left.” Ivor promised him. “I will make ye beg, as yer father did before I cut his head.”

“I might beg.” Jamie retorted in a rasped voice. “For ye to shup up and let me sleep.”

A crushing blow to his face made it explode in searing pain, his nose broken for the second time in a few days. That was good – Ivor was angry. And that was a satisfaction that no one could take away from him.

“Maybe,” The man started to say, pushing Jamie from the floor and holding him by the neck. “I won’t wait any longer. The clans are ripe now, ready for the taking, reeking of discord and old feuds.” He gripped him a little, making him cough. “Once ye’re finished they will crumble like a pyre of grass in the wind, ready to kneel before me.”

“Ye may think ye own them.” Jamie whispered, through his clenched teeth. “But the clans remember. Even when I’m gone, someday another man will see ye for the pathetic thing ye are.”

Ivor was choking him for real now, this big hands like iron tweezers around his airway. He struggled, trying to hit him with his arms and legs – but he was so weak and the corners of his vision were already painted with black. He couldn’t breathe and was becoming blind, saved from absolute darkness by millions of incandescent dots inside his head.

_I promise._ But he was too tired to fight any longer and there was a peaceful place within his reach, a place without pain or fear.

_Claire._ He saw her then, as he had seen her for the first time, her wild hair like a cloud against the sky, the most alluring and terrifying thing he had ever imagined. _I wish I could see her, one last time._

His throat was gasping in spasms, struggling to find saving air. His eyes bulged and for a moment he could see again.

She was cloaked and stood just behind Ivor. He hadn’t noticed her – he was too wrapped in the idea of ending Jamie. She was pale and beautiful, ethereal like Death herself.

Claire moved and leant behind Ivor, whispering in his ear.

“I came for you.” And in a graceful move her hand brought the blade in front of his neck as she slit his throat.

Ivor’s hands lost their strength and he let go of Jamie, who fell on the floor, droplets of blood warming his face. He laid on his back, looking directly at Claire.

“He _really_ shouldn’t have cut my hair.” And she sat down beside him and wept for things lost.


	16. Tree of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter

**Chapter 16 – Tree of Life**

_“He really shouldn’t have cut my hair.” And she sat down beside him and wept for things lost._

Jamie was riding in front of Claire, secured between her arms as she held the reins, long after they escaped the small fortress where he had been imprisoned. He was drifting in and out of conscience, barely able to speak and prevented from falling of the horse only by Claire’s will power, groaning whenever the rough path made his cracked ribs hurt.

Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw the same darkness where he lived for the past weeks and a bone deep panic settled, making him jump to consciousness again, too afraid of finding his rescue only a dream. But he couldn’t help himself from diving in restless sleep again, his body wrecked with pain and exhaustion. The only thing that kept him together was Claire’s soft scent, which surpassed his own reek, her soft breath on his neck, the bulge of her belly against the small of his back. Sometimes she would talk to him, in a calm and soothing tone, the meaning of her words hidden from him – and yet he found solace only in hearing her voice.

“Ye mustn’t….tell…them.” He babbled in a halting voice, his throat burning, while they stopped to drink and rest Mary. “How…ye did it.” Talking was an effort as great as holding a granite rock on his shoulders, but he desperately needed to make her understand. “How ye… killed Ivor.”

She looked at him, dark circles under her eyes, her fingers slightly shaking as she examined his injured hand, which she had strapped to his chest during the ride.

“He deserved it.” She said vehemently. “He was a monster.”

“I ken…that…fine.” He stopped to catch his breath. “Ye are a woman, nonetheless…And ye could get…in trouble…for killing a Clan Laird. No matter… _what_ he was. Ye must…let it fall…on me.”

“And wouldn’t _you_ get in trouble for it?” She asked, concerned.

“Nay.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “I’m a warrior…at war. His death…an act of rightful vengeance. Ye must tell them…I did it.”

“Alright.” She agreed hesitantly. “I will.”

“Claire! Jamie” A voice yelled their names by the path, hidden from their sight.

“Willie!” Claire greeted him, as he became visible between the trees.

“ _A charaid_!” Willie cried out, finally spotting Jamie on the ground beside her, lying on his side to lessen the pain on his back. He kneeled beside him and touched his battered face, his forehead wrinkled with concern. “How are ye, my friend?”

“I’ll live.” Jamie guaranteed, offering a tentative smile. “And that… is about as much as I could say… for myself…right now.”

“Are ye raving mad, lass?” After making sure Jamie was indeed very much alive, he turned to Claire, the corners of his mouth drawing angry lines. “Escaping in the middle of the night, leaving only a wee note behind ye? I was sick with worry, thinking ye dead!”

“I am sorry, Willie.” She said, but her chin was straight and challenging, looking like a pale image of a demure woman.

“Hmpf.” Willie made one of those significant Scottish sounds, still upset but clearly amused by her lack of sincere remorse. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything, but we have to get Jamie to Lallybroch, where I could tend his wounds properly.”

“Aye.” He cast an accessing glance at Jamie’s face.

“Willie.” Jamie called him softly and he leant to listen, surprised when he caught his hand in his own healthy one, gripping it.  “Ye did well. Ye kept her safe, _mo brathair_.”

****

When he opened his eyes he was disoriented, his hand throbbing with pain. He turned his head slightly, careful of his back, and saw the window ajar, the sky outside leaden with the promise of heavy rain. Jamie could see the building that stood in the distance and his heart leapt. The north facing tower. _Broch Tuarach._

With a knot forming on his throat, a curtain of unshed tears blurring his vision, his eyes travelled through the fireplace and the furniture. He had seen them countless times, when he used to come and steal his father sword. Brian Fraser used to sit in the armchair near the fireplace and to see that same place again, empty of him, almost took his breath away. This was the Laird’s room at Lallybroch. He was _home._

“I’m so glad you are finally awake.” Claire stood at the door, her hands full with linen bandages and a pitcher of hot water. “I was afraid I’d have to wake you to change your dressings.”

“How long?” He asked slowly, noticing that his throat was less sored.

“You were asleep for quite a bit.” She said, sitting beside him on the bed. “You needed it badly.” Claire reached for his left hand and started to unfold the fabric protecting it. Jamie had half-expected to wake up to find his hand gone, a stump the only reminder of what used to be a capable hand. Instead, he watched fascinated as Claire unveiled her work.

It was a ghastly echo of the lines and functionality of his old hand - and yet he marvelled at the way his wife had managed to compose the fractures and relieved his shattered joints, the elegance of her sutures, the cold and soothing quality of the ointment she applied. The room was filled with the fragrance of mint and camomile, as she carefully rubbed and tested his fingers.

“Claire…I….I’m sae sorry. For everything. For leaving ye, even though I had to. For getting caught by him. For forcing ye to break yer vow as a healer, taking a life.” He swallowed.

“I would kill a thousand men to get you back, James Fraser.” She said fiercely. “Do you hear me? I would go to Hell and bargain with the Devil himself to see you again.”

“You almost did.” Jamie said in a murmur. They stayed silent for a while, as Claire worked on his hand.

“Where is the army?” He asked, noticing the silence outside. During their journey she had told him about the occupation of Lallybroch, in one of those rare moments when he was fully aware.

“Well,” Claire answered, neatly folding the new bandages, her eyes avoiding his gaze. “They march towards Castle Lovat to make a siege on Grant’s clansmen.” She twirled her index finger, indicating that she wanted him to lay on his stomach, so she could attend to his back. “I reckon that now that Ivor is dead, Gavin and the others are expecting a swift surrender.”

“Ye are a terrible liar, _Bean sídhe_.” He said softly, biting his bottom lip as she applied the ointment on a deep cut on his shoulder, avoiding to cry out.

“I’m not lying!” She replied indignantly.

“Ye’re not telling me the whole truth either, aye?” He reached with his right hand and placed it above her heart. “I ken the woman I gave myself to. Ye may not be lying, but ye’re hiding something from me. Soul of my soul…Claire. What is it?”

She breathed deeply and kissed his hand.

“The army is…in shreds. They barely managed to hold out some Grant riders near Beauly. With each passing night their numbers decline, men using darkness to escape. There’s scarcely anything holding them together.”

Jamie’s eyes darkened. He looked at the armchair, not really seeing, the echo of a ghost alive in his head.

“Will they survive until I’m able to go to them?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” She conceded, sorrow streaming on her voice. “But there are many days ahead until you are able to travel, least to say fight, Jamie. You might be too late.”

****

As days went by, Jamie’s cuts healed into scars, as he slowly regained his strength. But he was damaged in some ways that no ointment or splint could fix, and those wounds were the ones that kept him awake every night.

He was restless and worried – the news of battle travelled slowly and erratically. Although there was still no victor, the news were unsettling.

One night Claire woke up to find him standing near the window, his hands gripping the sill, the moonlight highlighting the scars on his bare body and the tension on his back. She walked to him and gently hugged him from behind.

He turned to her and kissed her, like a drowning men holding on to a life raft, desperate to quell the emptiness that always seemed to engulf him in his sleep. She moved a little to let her shift float to the floor and stood, as naked as him, looking at his eyes.

“Once you kept darkness at bay, when I was surrounded by it.” She whispered, touching his face with her fingertips. “On our wedding night, you asked me to let you bear my pain, when I couldn’t bear it myself. I am a whole woman because of you.” She kissed his lips with care, barely a touch, careful of his uncontrolled emotions. “Jamie…Please. Let me bear your pain now.”

“I dinna think I can….” He tried to avoid their connection, but she placed her hands on the back his head, capturing him. “I feel I’ll go mad if I keep relieving it, but when I do try to put it behind me…it doesna feel real at all. It’s like a wound that festers until you have to amputate the whole limb and even then…the pain carries on. It’s not even there anymore, but the pain lives on. It’s too much to bear, Claire.”

“You can have it all.” She entwined her fingers with his. “You can have all my strength…and maybe together we’ll have just enough to bear it.” She quietly led him to bed and they laid down, facing each other.

And so he talked of the terrible things done to him, sometimes with cold reserve and sometimes with uncontrollable pain in his voice. When he couldn’t talk any longer he screamed and wept on her arms, like the child he seized to be between those same walls, years ago.

When he was void of tears, anguish drained from his soul, he told her stories of his parents and siblings, still very much alive in his heart. And when she was asleep still holding him, they shared the same dream.

****

She saw two riders at the distance and, recognizing her beloved red hair, dropped the basket with herbs that she was carrying and ran.

“Claire!” Jamie called, as his and Willie’s horses galloped to meet her. He jumped from the saddle and held her in his arms, kissing her. She inhaled deeply, smelling gun powder, sweat and grass. “How is the bairn?”

“Bigger everyday, I expect. I may yet reach the weight of a baby elephant.” She patted her respectable bulge, giving him a warm smile. “So, is it over?”

He smiled, cleaning the sweat of his neck with his plaid.

“It is.” Jamie said and kissed her on the chin.

“Jamie led the clans to a great victory.” Willie added, also smiling. “The Grants finally agreed to our terms. They will go back to their lands and sign a treaty not to cross any of our borders, even for as much as a hair of a goat.”

“I’m sure Bathsheba will be relieved.” She smiled, thinking of her temperamental goat, currently living in Leoch.    

“The old Fraser lands are to be Jamie’s, inherited by his children after him.” William added, proudly.

“I missed ye, _Bean sídhe_.” Jamie whispered in her ear, as they entered the house. They sat at the kitchen table and, between food and drink, told Claire all about the end of the clan’s war.

“I shall leave tomorrow.” Willie announced with glowing eyes, later in the evening. “I’m to get back to Leoch to fetch Beileag and Sorcha.”

As Jamie and Willie discussed final arrangements and details, Claire helped the maid to clean and put away the leftovers of their snack. Jamie’s eyes followed her and a light smile was on the corner of his mouth, even when speaking.

****

Jamie carried her and laid her down on the rug in front of the fire, burning and crackling in the hearth. Silently he pushed aside her shift and contemplated her opalescent body, his eyes ignited in contact with the image of her nakedness.

“I could come just from watching ye, _mo ghraidh_.” He breathed deeply, inhaling her. “Yer belly swelling with my child, yer breasts sae full and round, yer eyes glowing like honey in the sun.”

“I was hoping for something more than looking tonight, Laird _Broch Tuarach._ ” She laughed, teasing him. “My bed is very lonely with you away from it. _”_

“And did ye have the evening planned?” He lifted his brow, bending to lick the side of her neck making her yelp.

“I’m sure I could come up with something.” She played with the waist of his wrapped kilt.

“Aye. I’m sure of it my wee vixen.” He sighed. “But I must tell ye something beforehand.” He made small circles on top of her belly with his thumb, his face clouded with thoughts. “Gavin Campbell and the other Lairds wished for me to assume a place of command in the Highlands. Like a supreme War Chieftain, ye could say. They said that I alone rallied the clans and given the prophecy saw fit that I assumed some control to maintain peace.”

“Do you want it?” She asked seriously, holding his damaged hand between her own.

“All I ever wanted,” Jamie said slowly. “Was to make ye happy, to bring ye home to Lallybroch. To give ye a place to call yer own. I never wanted to rule anyone but myself.”

“I know.” She placed her head on the curve of his neck, her hair long enough to form curls again that tickled him. “And perhaps that’s the reason you should do it.”

“To rule these lands means to let go of any hope of peace.” He added. “To live each day looking for the knife at our backs, to be forced to smile and flatter and sometimes even to be ruthless and brutal. The Highlands are no easy place to grasp on a tight fist.”

“I’ll be by your side, Jamie.” She kissed his lips, her hands holding him by the shoulders to lean closer. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be with you.”

“I want to have a life with ye and our bairns, mindful only of my family and our tenants in Lallybroch.” He smiled. “Nay, I’ll let it go _mo nighean donn_. May other worthy man carry that burden and I’ll do my verra best to help him.”

“And now what?” She asked, smiling. He looked at her – beautiful in her nakedness, so happy and care free – and saw his tree of life. A blossoming tree, forever giving him a shade where he could rest, whenever he needed it, and bearing the fruits of his body and soul.

“Now we live, _Bean sídhe_.” He smiled with mischief, his body already pulsing with love and want. “And I think I shall start by taking ye to bed. The things I want to do to ye are not meant to be done on the floor.”


	17. Epilogue - Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys! We’ve made it to the very ending. Such a bittersweet moment! I want to thank every single person who read, commented and pushed for this fic. To the lovely ladies that always found the time to give me some words of incentive, all my gratitude - you have a special place in my heart for sure! I’m sorry if I’ve ever disappointed any of you.  
>  I’ll probably write some missing moments in this universe in due time, so if you want any particular scene let me now. I’d also love to hear what chapter you liked the most, which character, which scene…so if you feel like it, I’m all ears!  
> Thank you again and see you on the other side!

 

**Epilogue - Faith**

The air was so fresh after the rain he could almost taste it in his mouth, like a ripe fruit. Amongst the fragrance there was the smell of wet fur and recent faeces. He could hear his hoofs nearby, challenging him, like a war call from the _bodhrán_.

The deer lurched in the corner of his eye, making him jump on his feet to begin his pursuit. There were few things comparable to the thrill of the hunt, which could make his blood sing that ancient and commanding song.

Only Claire. She could make him feel equally alive in his own skin. When he laid with her and took her in a single, powerful, thrust, his skin tingled with the sense of life. She was his siren song, a home forever welcoming - a love that consumed the both of them to ashes, only to be born again in each other’s arms.

And so this time, when the deer jumped through the thick bushes into the light, he smiled and turned his back on the hunt, heading home to her.

****

She looked exquisite in the half-light, her hair waving in the soft breeze that always blew near the _loch_. She looked peaceful enough, nestled in her _arisaid_ , but her eyes were touched by shadows that he knew all too well.

“Are you thinking about her?” He said softly, careful not to frighten her. Claire didn’t move, but her eyes, usually so like those of a bird of prey, softened.

“Yes.” She smiled, a sad and tender gesture. “She would be turning three today.”

“Aye.” He sat by her side, looking at the peaceful waters, only disturbed by the low flight of a lapwing. “Do ye sometimes…regret it?” He swallowed, his voice husky. “Staying? Living this life, in this time?”

Claire’s face was disturbed for a moment, like a pool of water unsettled by pouring rain. Then, she sighed and slowly placed her head on his shoulder.

“I miss her – Faith - she was so beautiful, so delicate…too good for this world.” She moved to kiss the angle of his jaw. “But I never regret it. Not even when the pain of losing her was almost unbearable. Jamie, I never regretted my choice of staying in the past. And above all I never regretted falling in love with you and living as your wife.”

“If it wasn’t for the war, then maybe…maybe ye wouldna have given birth so soon and she…Faith…she might have lived.” He fought the knot that always formed in his throat at the image of their daughter, still-born.

She had been so small and delicate, her resemblance to Claire clear, even through her luminescent skin. He vividly remembered the feel of holding her, how she had been warm and solid in his shaking arms, so close to life and yet forever gone from his grasp.

“Please, Jamie.” Claire stopped him, her fingers touching his lips. “Don’t blame yourself, for I never blamed you, my love. There are things in this world beyond our command.”

“She was given to us.” He whispered. “And taken from us. And yet, in between, she was loved. So loved, _Bean sídhe.”_

“She still is.” She traced his stiff finger, the scar on it vanished to a thin white line. “And so she will be, as long as we draw breath. Loved by her parents, who love each other beyond reason.”

“I love ye, _mo nighean donn_.” Jamie kissed her forehead and hugged her, shielding her against the chill of the coming night. “I could never regret it either. I have killed people; lied when the danger was too great; envied good horses and healthy bairns to other men. I expect I’ve sinned in ten different ways before supper – but I’ve always find redemption in yer love. When I have ye in my arms, I ken I’m maybe not sae bad after all, if I’m to be worthy of ye. Yer love makes me holy again, Claire.”

“Soul of my soul.” She smiled against his lips, almost kissing him. “Even forever isn’t enough for the life I want with you.”

“Nay.” He framed her face, his heart that beat out of his chest, between his hands. “But it’s a damn good start.”

****

“You look beautiful Beileag!” Claire exclaimed, smiling, fixing the pleats on the dress one last time. “A radiant bride.”

“Och.” Her friend blushed, becoming even move lovely. “Where is Sorcha? I hope that wee lassie is not spoiling her good dress with dirt or butter, or I shall smack her bum until she forgets how to sit!”

“She’s fine.” Claire reassured her, taking a glance at the looking glass to guarantee her own wild hair was tamed enough. “Jamie is with her. I assigned them guard of your bridegroom, just in case Willie has any last minute thoughts of escaping.” She joked, making the anxious bride laugh with pleasure.

“I’d probably run ahead of him.” She retorted, picking the small bouquet of wild flowers from the table. “That man has waited long enough to marry me – I can only assume there’s not that much I can do to make him quit.”

“I am so happy for you both.” Claire held her hands, suddenly recalling with vividness her own wedding day. “He loves you and Sorcha so much. He’ll be a great husband, I’m sure of it.”

“As am I.” She smiled and walked to the door. “We’re both lucky lasses, aren’t we?”

****

“Ye look a little green around the edges, _a charaid_.” Jamie teased, giving Willie a side smile. “Shall I get a bucket?”

“Hmpf.” Willie grunted. “It’s this jacket. I canna move or breathe right.”

“Shall I explain ye some facts of life now, William MacKenzie? Ye wouldna want to embarrass yerself on yer wedding night.” He patted the young man on the shoulder. They were standing in the parlour of Lallybroch, where the ceremony was to take place.

“Shall I remember ye that, when we were lads of sixteen, we used to go to the stables together at Leoch?” He furrowed his brow, a small smirk appearing on the corner of his lips. “We watched together the black stallion and the yellow mare, Persephone, aye?”

“Aye.” Jamie laughed. “Verra…big…shoes to fill, I must say, if ye mean to live up to that animal.”

“Willie!” Sorcha came to them, twirling and jumping like a dancer. Jamie’s heart gripped, thinking of what Faith would look like at that age, singing and trotting next to her, calling his own name with such love. “Why do ye want to wear the horsy shoes?” She furrowed her small eyebrows. “I thought we could only wear our own shoes.”

“Uncle Jamie is being clever, _a nighean_.” Willie smiled, taking her on his lap. “Ye look beautiful and clean like a dandelion.”

“Auntie Claire sent me to take care of ye.” She nuzzled him. “Are ye scared? Shall I tell ye a story?”

“I’m just a wee bit excited – like when Ma makes that raisin cake ye like so much, and ye look so forward to it yer belly tightens a little, aye?” He kissed her on the temple. “But now that I have ye both by my side…well, I couldna ask for anything else.”

****

He had been searching for her, after she had excused herself to get some fresh air. She had been lovely, – blushed from the effort of dancing on her red dress, her skin glowing with the moistness of sweat, her eyes spicy like the best aged whiskey – and not a day older from the day he had met her.

Jamie finally found her sitting by the flower garden she had planted almost three years ago, when she slowly had regained her strength after the birth and death of Faith Fraser. She frequently went there to think and be close to her pain, in a way that didn’t contaminate their home. But today she seemed happy and tranquil, her fingers caressing the rose petals.

“Are ye hiding to avoid the next dance, Mistress Fraser?” He asked, picking her up on his lap and sitting, cradling her.

“I never run away from a challenge.” She laughed and kissed him, her tongue immediately seeking his own.

“Hmmmmm.” He moaned against her soft lips, tasting good claret. “Feeling somewhat wanton, are ye?”

“I’m just delighted for our two friends.” She tugged on his hair, her fingers entwined on the red strands, making him gasp. “Happy there is so much love around us.”

“Glad to hear it.” His hand slowly travelled to her bosom, his index finger tracing the side of her full breast, hidden under the red fabric. “Ye look…different.”

“Do I?” She asked, biting her full bottom lip in pretended innocence, hypnotizing his eyes.

“Yes.” He said, realizing that she actually had looked _changed_ , for quite some time. “Cheerful and lively, sometimes with that dreamy gaze about ye…”

“Such a watchful husband.” She took his band and licked the tip of his finger. “Is there more?”

“Well, I’ve been ridden more times this past few days than Donas.” He playfully pinched her arse. “And ye sleep like the dead, _Bean sídhe_ , even slept through the thunderstorm that struck the small barn last week.”

She smiled enigmatically and, putting a hand on his chest, laid him down gently amongst the smell of fertile earth and sweet flowers, whispering dreams in his ear.

“ _I’m pregnant_.”


End file.
